


The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

by Katie_Dub



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Attempt at Humor, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katie_Dub/pseuds/Katie_Dub
Summary: One shots to celebrate the season





	1. It Had to Be You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Harry Met Sally festive Captain Swan AU

Emma was sitting alone in her apartment on New Year's Eve, telling herself that she was having fun. Who needed mandatory merriment at overpriced bars or overcrowded house parties? At home she could celebrate the season with her feet up, a pop tart in one hand and a cinnamon liqueur-laced hot chocolate in another. 

And if a certain best friend of hers was notable by his absence, well that was for the best really. He'd only find all that pressure to kiss someone at midnight confusing.

_ “Happy New Year!” everyone had cried out when the clock struck midnight _ .  _ And they immediately were surrounded by a sea of couples making out like tomorrow hadn't just come. _

_ She caught Killian's eye, expecting to see her own bemusement reflected back at her. But his gaze was soft and intense and full of inexplicable longing. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip, as she stared back at him. He looked like he wanted to kiss her desperately, like she meant the world to him, like he maybe even l- _

_ But she couldn't think like that, they couldn't have that. She hadn't even realised that she had moved closer to him until she came to her senses. She jerked back and it broke whatever spell Killian was under.  _

_ “Happy New Year,” they said together, throwing their arms around each other, laughing at their own awkwardness. He sighed into her embrace and she clutched him tighter. They could be together like this forever, she didn't need more than friendship as long as she had him in her life. _

But she didn't even have that anymore, did she? All because she allowed herself to give into her selfish desires and to take comfort in his arms when her past came to call.

_ “Guess who I saw today?” Emma snapped the second Killian answered the phone. “Neal,” she barreled on before he had chance to even take a breath. _

_ “I'll bring the rum.” _

_ Killian was there in no time at all, and soon had presented her with a glass of her favourite rum. “So, you saw Neal?” he prompted. _

_ “You know that job I took on to find Gold’s son? Well, turns out Neal Cassidy is not his real name. I don't even know why I'm surprised, it's just one more thing that he lied to me about.” She took a sip of rum, wincing a little as it burnt her throat. “He thought he could just buy me a drink and I wouldn't share his details with his dear old dad, tried giving me some sob story about what a monster he is.” _

_ “I hate to say a word in Neal’s defence, but there is something deeply creepy about Gold, he reminds me of a crocodile,” Killian said with a shudder. _

_ “They deserve each other.” Emma retorted, then fell silent, staring intently into her glass as she swirled her drink around. She couldn't look at Killian while she told him what came next. “He's getting married.” _

_ “Gold?” _

_ Emma's head snapped up, “Neal!”  _

_ Killian nodded sagely. “And that bothers you?” _

_ “No!” He raised an accusing eyebrow at her, seeming to see straight through her lie. “I just - I really thought he loved me and he left me with his prison sentence and an unwanted pregnancy. Then perfect Tamara comes along and she gets a ring?” _

_ “If you could take him back now, would you?”  _

_ “No! But… Why didn't he want to marry me?” Emma felt small and ridiculous, but she couldn't help but be stung by the situation. First her parents had abandoned her at the side of the road, then her first love abandoned her in prison. What was it about her that was so fundamentally unlovable? _

_ Killian wrapped his arms around her. “Because he's a bloody wanker who doesn't deserve you.” _

_ A thousand arguments came to mind, whispering that she didn't deserve anyone. She couldn't bring herself to voice them, fearing that he would take heed of her words and flee. Instead she clung to him, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of his hand stroking her hair. _

_ She wished she could say that she was drunk and that's why she kissed him. But she just needed to feel loved and cherished. Just this once. _

_ It had been a perfect night, but come the morning it felt too much. Killian hadn't just fucked her - he'd made love to her and as yesterday had reminded her, a happy ending wasn't in the cards for her. _

_ He'd woken up as she was getting dressed a small smirk on his face. “Last night was -” _

_ “A one time thing,” she cut him off before he could say anything more. She couldn't bear to hear it - would he call it a mistake? It was such a special night for her and she didn't want to know if he didn't feel the same. But then, what if he saw it as the start of something, some kind of fairytale happy beginning that was sure to be doomed to fail?  _

_ So she did what she does best - she ran, and nothing had felt right since. _

He'd called her out on it - accused her of avoiding him - but she couldn't bring herself to confront the situation. She imagined calling him so many times, throwing herself on his mercy for letting him down so badly. But she couldn't imagine a scenario where he didn't agree that she simply wasn't worth the effort and the thought of actually hearing that hurt her fragile heart. 

Instead she wallowed in misery, missing him so much it hurt. 

She missed him when she went to the children's home to take Christmas presents to the kids. She felt so awkward, remembering how easily Killian had charmed them all the previous Christmas, with his jokes and his smiles and his actual elf costume.

She missed him as she struggled to drag her Christmas tree home by herself and when she nearly fell over trying to fit the bloody star to the top.  _ “Steady there, Swan,” he'd laughed as she'd wobbled, holding her close to him so that she could put the star in place. _ Had that really been just a year ago?

She missed him as she tried to avoid being caught beneath the mistletoe at Mary Margaret and David's winter wonderland party. There was a furniture salesman who she knew had asked for a set up, eyeing her from across the room. If Killian were here, she’d not give the guy a second thought, without him she felt self conscious and left early.

_ “There's only one way we'll survive this party,” he'd murmured with a wink, tipping a generous glug of rum into their eggnog.  _

_ “There's a blonde in a sparkly green dress eyeing you up,” she'd whispered out of the corner of her mouth, suppressing the urge to growl at the girl. _

_ “Is she hot?” Killian had asked, wiggling his brows suggestively. _

_ “Yes,” Emma begrudgingly admitted. His grin widened and he chanced a glance over his shoulder, before whipping his head back around to Emma, eyes wide in alarm. _

_ “Bloody hell, it's Tink.” _

_ “The ex who used to drive you insane?”  _

_ “Yep. Keep her away from me, Swan, I cannot end up going home with her tonight.” _

_ “Well just.. Don't?”  _

_ “You don't understand, I'm powerless to resist her charms!” Emma cocked her head at him quizzically. “She gives the best head I've ever had, OK? But as that's about the only time she's actually not sniping at me, she's not worth it.” _

_ Emma rolled her eyes, ignoring the irrational anger she suddenly felt towards the girl. “I'm ashamed to be friends with you.” _

_ “You know you love me, now please, rescue me!” _

_ “Fine, but you owe me.” _

_ “Anything for my saviour,” he said with sincerity. _

She missed him always. He was a part of her and life just had a little less sparkle without him there - especially at this festive time of year. Why had she pushed him away? So she wouldn’t get hurt? Well here she was, aching for him, and  _ oh god, what if he’s hurting too? _

He deserved better, but maybe he’d take what she could give him, she had to know, had to  _ try. _

She flung open the door and ran out into the night. The whole way to the party Emma fretted. Maybe he’d be with someone else, or he might reject her like she rejected him, or maybe she just wouldn’t be able to find him.

She ran into the building and at the first sight of a girl in a skin tight shimmery dress felt self conscious about the total lack of effort that she’d made. He would no doubt look hot as hell -  _ I  think you mean devilishly handsome  _ \- came his voice in her head, while she was wearing her winter coat and beanie over leggings and an oversized sweatshirt.

_ You can do it, Swan! _

She tried not to think too hard about the fact that her inner cheerleader was the man she was intent on finding. She squared her shoulders and threw her chin up, trying to fake the confidence that she did not feel. She strode forward - and there he was, pulling his coat over a button down blue shirt and a vest.

He looked up and caught her eye, looking stunned. She wanted to run to him, but fear made her cautious and she crept closer instead.

“What are you doing here?” She wasn’t sure if his tone was irritated or simply shocked, but either way he eyed her with suspicion.

“I - I needed to see you.” Oh God, she was so bad at this. If it were Killian in her place he’d know exactly what to say.  _ Killian wouldn’t have hurt you like this _ , her mind shot at her, unhelpfully. “I miss you and I need you and I know that’s my own fault that we haven’t been together because I messed everything up, but I’m sorry and if you’ll let me, I’ll try to make it up to you.” Her words came out in a rush and she gazed at him, biting her lip as she awaited his verdict.

“You -” he took a deep breath,  _ fuck, he must be so angry, _ “- you need me?”

She hadn’t expected that. “Yes. I do. I want to be with you always.”

“I’m not your consolation prize,” he said warily.

“No,” Emma agreed. “You’re my everything. If you’ll have me?”

He looked blown away by her words, his beautiful smile spreading across his face and lighting up his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, shaking his head with disbelief and laughter. 

Emboldened by his apparent delight, Emma reached up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. For a moment it was soft and gentle, but Killian pulled her closer to him and it was fire and passion and love, so much love. They broke apart but stayed close their foreheads touching and bodies pressed tight together. 

Emma couldn’t help but murmur “I love you”, looking up into Killian’s eyes. “I love you too,” he whispered back. If she had looked around, she would have realised that the clock had struck midnight and this year she was one of the loved-up couples ringing in the New Year with a kiss. But she only had eyes for the man she loved, and she kissed him again as Auld Lang Syne drifted around the room.


	2. An Affinity for Elf Culture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A magic in the modern world AU loosely inspired by the movie Elf

Emma strode into the bar where she was due to meet her skip, dressed to arrest in a skin tight dress and killer heels. She scanned the room and on seeing no sign of him, slunk onto a bar stool and pulled out her phone.

“Oh wow, you must be missing home.” She looked up at the sound of the smooth, British accent to see a handsome man sat beside her.  _ Hot, _ was her brain’s immediate reaction, before she reminded herself that this was some sleeze apparently trying out a line on her.

“Excuse me?”

“It must be so hard to be so far from heaven.”

She rolled her eyes with a sigh and gave him her most unimpressed look. “And let me guess, you can take me there?” 

The stranger frowned at her and shook his head. “No. I don't know the way, don't you?” he said entirely seriously and Emma shook her head in confusion.  _ This is definitely the weirdest come on I’ve ever heard. _ “Sorry, are you not an angel? I just assumed with that face you must be one.. So, you’re what? A goddess?”

“Do these lines ever work for you?” she asked, genuinely bewildered and intrigued. What this guy was saying doesn't even make sense as a pick up line, but she figured that his pretty face probably bought him a lot of attention. Just a shame that he didn’t have the sharp wit to match. Although perhaps that was for the best as she was here to work.

The hot guy was still looking confused when she spotted her skip walking through the door. She immediately switched to seduction mode, moving to greet him and not sparing the stranger with the terrible chat up lines a second glance.

***

It was a few days later when she was back at that same bar with Mary Margaret, trying desperately to get the bartender’s attention. It was a Friday night in December and the place was crammed full of eager drinkers - it’d be a miracle if she got close to ordering tonight.

She wondered if it was too late to suggest they just give up and go somewhere more low key when she heard a familiar voice in her ear. “Why if it isn’t the goddess! I hoped that I might see you again.”

She looked around and saw the handsome but dim man she’d met earlier in the week. In spite of herself, she smiled at him. Yes, he had bizarre line, but still, it did feel nice to be called a goddess.

“Still not a goddess.”

“No? Surely no mere mortal has such ethereal beauty?” They didn’t sound like the words of a simpleton - perhaps Brits just have a really different approach to chat up lines? “I was sorry that I didn’t get to talk to you longer.”

Emma blushed and couldn’t help but smile a little, he was just staring at her so intently with his beautiful blue eyes. How could she not be charmed by him? “Oh, yeah. I had to catch a skip.” He cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “I’m a bail bondsperson, I catch people who are trying to avoid time in jail.”

She was surprised and gratified to see his face light up at her words. “So you’re a siren.”

“Come again?”

“A siren. You lure men in with your beautiful face and lead them to their doom.”

That got her hackles up at once. How dare he? “Their doom?! That guy stole every last cent his wife and children had - he got what he deserved!”

His smile widened, he was undoubtedly impressed with her. “A just and vengeful siren? That’s even better, love.”

“HEY EMMA!” Emma looked over her shoulder and spotted Mary Margaret yelling out to her, struggling to get close through the mass of people. “Ruby called, change of plan. The others are all at Aesop’s Tables.”

Emma felt a little disappointed that she couldn’t stay to chat with this charming - if eccentric - man, but she wasn’t going to ditch her friends for a man. No matter how handsome he might be. She looked back to him. “Sorry, I have to go, see you.”

“Bye Emma” she heard from behind her as she turned to leave.

***

Emma was a little surprised to find that the strange man kept coming to mind after that encounter. He was clearly at least mildly insane, but at least his lines were somewhat creative. Definitely better than the “I’d better get a library card, because I’m checking you out,” that she heard later than night. Preferable to the lame, “how  _ you _ doing?” from the guy who still seemed to think Friends references were cutting edge. And she wasn’t even going to comment on the guy who simply asked, “want to sit on my face?” (She opted to throw a drink in it instead.)

When she strolled back to the bar they’d met in a few days later without a skip to catch or a friend to meet, she was more than a little disappointed when she couldn’t see him anywhere. But that was ridiculous, she couldn’t expect him to just loiter in that one bar, hoping to meet her again. He was probably off doing festive things with friends somewhere. She would just get one drink and be on her way.

“Emma, how lovely to see you again!”

Inside she was beaming when she heard that smooth British accent, but she only allowed a small smile to grace her face as she turned to greet him.

She allowed herself the luxury of checking him out quite thoroughly - he was such a fine specimen after all. She saw his pointy ears and noticed an elf decoration behind him with the exact same feature. A mischievous impulse seized her - he was always comparing her to some mythical creature, perhaps she should do the same?

She cocked her head and squinted at him as though trying to figure out how she knows him. “You're that elf who keeps hitting on me, aren't you?”

“Yes!” he shouted eyes wide, then seeming to remember himself, and lowered his voice. “Are you one too? You’re far lovelier than any other elf I’ve met, but -”

Emma’s face fell at his answer. She avoided relationships at the best of times, but here was a grown man, telling her that he was a goddamn elf. If ever there was a great big flashing neon sign to tell her to avoid a situation, this was it.

“ _ I  _ was joking. I don’t know whether you are too, or if you genuinely believe -” she couldn’t bring herself to say it “- that. But I can’t do this.” She knocked back her drink and without another word, stood up and marched out of the bar.

***

It was Christmas Eve and Emma was strolling through the park when she saw it - Santa’s sleigh crash landing in front of her. And as if that wasn’t enough, there was her elf from the bar, helping Santa to repair the damn thing.

She wanted to deny it all, but truthfully? It was kind of nice to think that the hot guy who hit on her hadn’t been a lunatic. And if he was actually an elf and thought she might be some kind of legendarily beautiful creature… well, that was actually really flattering.

Santa had been sent off on his way, Christmas had been saved and they were sharing a glass of rum in the bar where they met.

“So, you really are an elf then -” Emma broke off, suddenly realising that she didn’t know his name.

“Killian. And yes. Well, I’m part elf.” She raised her eyebrows questioningly, wanting him to continue. “My mum was an elf, my dad’s human, and something of a dickhead.”

Emma snorted with laughter and Killian frowned at her. “Sorry, it’s weird to hear an elf swear, I thought you’d say something like ‘son of a nutcracker’ - and that elves were really small.”

Killian scowled. “Will Ferrell has a lot to answer for,” he muttered darkly. “No, we’re normal size, we do swear, we don’t rot our teeth on impossible quantities of sugar. About the only thing that you guys have right is that we work with Santa. Oh and the pointy ears thing.” He gestured vaguely towards his own ears with their pointed tips.

“Fair enough.” Emma considered asking Killian more about his complicated family tree, but decided she didn’t really want to have to share her own at this stage. That could wait til later - much later - they hadn’t even had a proper date yet. She leaned in with a grin. “So, Killian, what are you doing New Year’s eve?” Killian’s answering smile lit up his whole face, making him somehow more beautiful still. This might be completely insane, but Emma found that she had never been more sure that she was making the right choice.


	3. The Sweater Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I once read a thing about the Sweater Curse, which says that if you knit a sweater for your significant other, they’ll break up with you. So obviously I turned this into a Christmas CS AU and what happens when Emma makes Neal an ugly Christmas jumper.

“Fuck Neal Cassidy,” announced Emma for approximately the thousandth time that night. “Fuck him, and fuck romance, and fuck love.”

Bleary-eyed she reached for her glass, noting with surprise that she had already finished her drink. She looked around for the bottle that had apparently vanished. “Where'd the rum go?”

“Don't you think it's time to switch to water?” Mary Margaret asked.

Emma turned to her, eyes flashing fire. Possibly. She was quite drunk and it was hard to focus on her friend. She knew that her endlessly hopeful friend was merely trying to look out for her, but it really wasn't the time.

“Mary Margaret. I just spent the day in jail because the man I love -” her heart wrenched at the word “- loved tried to set me up for his crime. If it weren't for your step-sister’s superior legal skills, I would likely still be there.”  _ I should send Regina some thank you flowers or something,  _ came the fleeting thought that Emma hoped she’d remember in the morning. “I will never have had enough rum.”

“I still think there must have been some mistake…” 

“He gave me a stolen watch, hid the rest of his stash in my locker at work, and called the police to tip them off. The only mistake was that I thought he was a good man.” Emma choked back a sob and Mary Margaret pulled her in for a hug.

“This is going down in history as the worst Christmas ever,” she muttered into her friend's shoulder. “I gave Neal the ultimate ugly Christmas sweater that I slaved over because for some reason he loves the damn things. He gave me a stolen watch and a one-way ticket to jail.”

_ “The sweater curse,”  _ Mary Margaret breathed in horrified awe pulling back to look at Emma with unwarranted fear in her eyes.

Emma wanted to roll her eyes, but didn’t have enough coordination to do it. She settled for what she hoped was an exasperated glare - although, as they were two of Mary Margaret as far as she was concerned, it was unlikely that her friend got the full effect.

But, seriously? The pair had signed up for a knitting class at the start of the year and having both taken to the craft surprisingly well, they’d decided to make the men in their lives sweaters. (Mary Margaret’s was going to be a soft, cosy and above all, tasteful one for David, Emma was creating a monstrous ugly Christmas jumper out of sparkly wool because she was classy as fuck.)

A classmate upon hearing about this warned them of a legendary sweater curse. If you make your significant other a sweater, you’re doomed to break up, or something. They had treated it with the absolute contempt it deserved and laughed at it - Mary Margaret because she was too full of romance and optimism, Emma just wasn’t one to take superstitious bullshit seriously.

“There’s no curse Ms - he’s just a massive dick.”

“Still… I might not give that sweater to David after all.”

Emma shrugged and looked around the room for the missing rum. “Up to you, although I doubt a sweater could come between you and your Prince Charming.” She spotted it over on the kitchen counter and stumbled over to claim the bottle. “Now, no more talk of boyfriends or sweaters, it’s time for more drinking!”

_ One year later _

Emma was gazing around the room at the Nolans’ “Merry Everything!” party trying to find anyone that she might know. She had no idea that this many people even lived in Storybrooke, and frankly she was a little convinced that Mary Margaret must have used actual magic to fit this many of the town’s residents into her house. The only familiar face that she’d seen so far had been Leroy - but she quickly looked away, not really wanting to hear an alcohol-fuelled rant from the grumpy man.

And that’s when she spotted him: a dark-haired, handsome man who turned Emma into a breathless, tongue-tied, weak-kneed walking cliche. 

He was gazing at Belle, nodding along to her words with intense interest and Emma thought she might actually kill - or at least mildly wound someone - to have him look at her like that. Then Belle said something that had him throwing back his head with laughter and his entire face lit up with sheer joy, somehow making him look impossibly more beautiful still.

Emma was moving towards him before she even realised it.

“Hi Belle, long time no see!” Emma cringed at how false she sounded. She felt like she had “no, seriously, I’m only interested in an introduction to your hot friend, I don’t care about your life” written all over her face. It’s not like that was entirely true - yeah, she wanted to meet the guy, but she genuinely  _ did  _ like Belle and it  _ had  _ been a long time.

“Emma!” Belle replied with a wide smile, throwing her arms around Emma, who breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad to see you here, how have you been?” There was a gruff cough from the hot guy that had Belle rolling her eyes and gesturing towards him. “Emma, have you met Killian?”

“No I haven’t,” Emma said turning to him and extending her hand. “Nice to meet you, Killian.” 

“Pleasure’s all mine, Emma,” Killian replied with a grin, shaking her hand and Emma stared transfixed. He was British, because he wasn’t already hot enough. She needed help. She looked towards Belle, who was already melting into the crowd. Emma could swear she saw her mouthing “be good” to Killian.

_ Be cool, Swan, you can talk to a hot guy. You’ve done it before. _

She turned back to Killian. The first thing she noticed wasn’t the hint of mischief in his eyes, or the perfect scruff on his jaw or the artfully arranged hair that was just begging to be messed up in the throes of passion. It was his sweater. His very familiar sweater.

It was a black jumper with a fuzzy, sparkly and very wonky Christmas tree in the middle of it. An obscene number of sequins in garish shades of neon had been hand stitched to the tree and it was completed with a glittery star patch that had been sewn to the top. It was the fucking sweater that she lovingly made and gave to Neal the day before he left her.

“Where did you get that sweater?” she asked in a dumbstruck whisper.

His eyes lit up. “Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked, sounded slightly awed. “I found it at goodwill -  I think it was actually handmade.” 

“It was,” Emma whispered, but he didn’t seem to hear. 

“Can you believe that someone gave away something this perfect? What a crime to not treasure it forever.”

Emma knew that he was talking about the sweater, but something about his words hit home and to her horror, she burst into tears. His face fell and he scratched awkwardly behind his ear, he opened his mouth, but Emma backed away and ran before he could say anything.

She hid in the bathroom, struggling to calm herself down. So she freaked out about the sweater, big deal, it’s not like giving away her gift was the worst thing that Neal had done to her. But somehow her reaction to seeing it felt like an indictment against her even attempting to move on.

_ You thought a year was enough time to recover from that heartbreak? Think how badly  _ this  _ man could treat you. Don’t let his pretty face trick you into thinking he’ll be any different. _

She was angry at her own stupid anxieties. She had met a genuinely beautiful man and she had run away to hide from him because of a goddamn piece of knitwear.

_ Who does that? A sad and pathetic loser who isn’t worthy of a Greek God like him. Neal had the right idea trying to lock you away, nobody should have to deal with you. You’re nothing. _

She squared her shoulders and stared into the mirror with a fierce glare. “I’m not nothing,” she told her own reflection. 

And when she thought about it, hadn’t that man called her handiwork “perfect”? Neal had barely mustered a smile when he opened it, simply calling it “nice”. Clearly  _ Neal _ was the one who wasn’t worthy of her. But maybe this Killian could be.

She wiped her eyes and applied some fresh lipstick. She was going to find Killian and she was going to kiss the living daylights out of him.

She threw open the bathroom door - and walked straight into Killian.

“Oh shit!” “Sorry, love!” They spoke at once and all Emma’s confidence melted away at once again looking like a complete fool in front of him. He took a step back.

“I hope you don’t mind that I waited for you?” he asked cautiously, scratching behind his ear. “I wanted to make sure that you were ok?”

_ Is he for real? _ Emma thought gaping at him.

“Oh… yeah. It’s just your sweater, well, I made it and -”

“ _ You made this masterpiece?!”  _ Killian exclaimed. “Wait, sorry, not the point of the story, was it?”

Emma laughed in spite of herself. “Well, let’s just say that clearly the recipient didn’t think of much of it as you do.”

“Then they’re a bloody fool, whoever they are.” 

Emma couldn’t help but chuff with pride at his words. She glanced up - and noticed the mistletoe hanging above him. She didn’t let herself think twice, she just acted, grabbing hold of his sweater and pulling his lips down to hers.

He kissed her enthusiastically and passionately, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tight against him. When they finally parted for air he looked at her with awe. “That was -” he gasped, overcome.

“Just the beginning,” she promised, moving back to kiss him again. After all, this guy clearly understood the value of having an Emma Swan original in his life - maybe he was worthy of getting a chance.

The next year when Emma arrived at the Nolan’s “Merry Everything!” party she was wearing an ugly sweater that she had made especially for the occasion. Well, she wanted one to match the one she’d made for her fiance, Killian, that he was wearing with pride. And she couldn’t have been happier.


	4. Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two characters need to share a bath to get warm.  
> Warning: freezing temperatures, pirates in pain, possible medical inaccuracies but a definite happy ending   
> (AKA, this one gets a little whumpy, I'll understand if you want to avoid it, we'll return to our normal schedule of fluff next chapter).

“Go on, say it,” Emma huffed at him. “I know you're dying to say ‘I told you so’”

Killian wasn't going to say it. He valued his life too much. Besides, he really didn't need to, the bug was doing that for him. Yes, he had gently suggested that perhaps the bug wasn't the best choice for a trip to a cabin in the woods in the snow, and he had made it clear he was more than willing to foot the bill for the cost of a rental. But still, they were here now, broken down not two miles from their holiday getaway and it really wasn't a situation that he relished.

“I have no idea what you mean. So how long will it take the cavalry to get to us?”

Emma side eyed him with suspicion, he grinned back innocently. It was true that teasing his best friend was one of his favourite pastimes, but he drew the line at being outright cruel.

“Triple A said 1 hour -” “that's not bad” “-minimum.”

“Ah. Well, we missed out on playing some quality car games on the journey, what with your need to concentrate on the road, how about a little ‘I spy’ now?” Emma glared at him in disgust. “No? We could share our most embarrassing sex stories?”

“I am never going to tell you what happened with Walsh in his furniture shop.”

“You keeping that between the two of you and the police still?” Emma's face turned an adorable shade of red. Perhaps if she didn't look so beautiful when she blushed, Killian wouldn't be quite so tempted to needle her so much. Perhaps. “I can tell you my embarrassing stories too if that'll loosen your tongue?”

He was delighted to see that this caused her lips to twitch into a small grin. “But that would require you to have some shame and we both know that you don't.”

“That is not true!” he gasped in mock indignation.

“So you weren't once caught going down on Tina in a corridor and just carried on? Sounds like the actions of a shy, retiring type.”

“You would have me leave a lady wanting? Now that would be a truly shameful act and not befitting a gentleman like myself!”

“It's going to be a long hour,” Emma muttered.

***

It was 3 hours later and Killian was feeling the cold even through the several layers of clothes that he had piled on. He shivered as Emma growled at her phone, incensed by the conversation she'd just had.

“No sign of our knight in shining tow truck?”

“Another 3 hours at least,” she huffed angrily.

“Is it time to huddle for warmth? Tell me, Swan, was this all a trap to get close to me?”

Her eyes flashed angrily before her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I'm sorry, Killian.” She chewed on her lip sadly. He reached out for her and pulled her into an awkward hug across the gear stick. “Do you think we should abandon the car for the night?” She asked anxiously, murmuring the words into his chest. “It'll take less time to get to the cabin than it'll take any help to arrive and my phone battery's nearly dead.”

“Excellent idea, love.”

***

It would've been an excellent idea, if only that complete asshole of a driver hadn't deliberately driven through an icy puddle, clearly intending to punish Killian and Emma for the crime of walking on the road. Like they had a choice, there was no sidewalk and they needed to get to the cabin before they actually froze to death. All the driver was doing was ensuring that they took even longer to get there.

What a prick.

Killian had valiantly shielded Emma from the freezing spray, meaning he was drenched through while she stayed mostly dry.

The intense shivering had started immediately. Emma had tried to pull him close to her, but he'd reluctantly nudged her away, reasoning that they shouldn't both end up soaked.

Now though, as he caught sight of the cabin up ahead, he had a sudden burst of enthusiasm. They were so close and he wasn't even feeling the cold anymore. Must be all the physical exertion.

“Cabin, ho!” he shouted cheerfully, or at least, he thought he did. The words sounded strangely garbled in his ears.

“What?” Emma turned to stare at him and he was surprised to realise that he had a hard time focusing on her. “Killian, are you OK?”

“ibabssssolutelyfibe” his tongue was refusing to follow basic instructions. How hard was it to tell Emma that he's fine? Probably. Admittedly now that he thought about it, his head did feel foggy and Emma seemed strangely far away for someone who was right next to him.

“Have you drained your hip flask? I thought that rum was to share,” she whined at him. He opened his mouth, intending to defend himself against such wild accusations, but instead he stumbled, and found himself slumped against Emma's side. He tried willing his body to stand upright, but it was to no avail.

“Killian?” Beautiful green eyes peered into his own. He felt the need to ask if Emma was sure that _she_ was OK, seeing as how her usually vibrant eyes seemed dull. “Oh fuck, when did your lips turn blue? We need to get inside.”

Emma wrapped her arms around him and dragged him forward. He almost fell immediately. Why weren't his limbs functioning properly? He really did feel as though he'd drank too much rum... But he'd remember doing that, right?

As he felt his uncooperative body pulled along, he mused on what a strange thing that was for Emma to say. Why would he look cold when he felt perfectly fine? If anything, he actually a little overwarm.

As they staggered forward he started to feel suffocated by Emma's arms around him. He tried pushing her away but found he couldn't muster the strength.

He tried to puzzle out his options but his body had quickly gone from mildly warm to seriously overheating. He couldn't extract himself from Emma, but he could surely get his coat off?

“What the fuck are you doing?” Killian saw Emma slap his hand away from his zipper, although strangely, he didn't feel it.

“Hot,” he mumbled.

Emma seized his hand, preventing him from reaching for his zipper again. “It's not hot, it's freezing, keep your coat on so you don't die.”

He whimpered, he was on fire and it was torment but at least the cabin was close.

Wasn't it?

It seemed to take forever to reach it, consumed as Killian was with thoughts of burning flesh. Once they were inside though, Emma mercifully released him into a chair and disappeared.

He set to work tearing off his clothes at once. He was struggling a little with his trousers when he felt a pair of hands join his hand and prosthetic in tugging them down.

“Jesus Jones, do you have to wear such tight pants?” Emma was scolding him, but there was a wobble in her voice.

If a part of him was even aware that Emma Swan - his Emma - was stripping him bare it was silenced by the blessed relief of cool air against his skin. But then he was wrapped in towels and Emma was rubbing them against him.

He hated it.

He felt like white hot needles were jabbing into his skin and Emma was driving them deeper with every brush of the towel.

The garbled noise of pain he made sounded subhuman even through his own confusion. Emma looked alarmed, jumping back from him. “You're still so cold,” she muttered to herself and vanished. It was perhaps the first time in his life that Killian was actually grateful that Emma had left him alone.

He didn't know how long she was gone, he just sat on the sofa, watching the room spinning, although the motion gradually - thankfully - slowed.

He was still struggling to shake off the inexplicable feeling of languishing in a rum-fuelled drunken stupor when Emma reappeared before him in a robe. He blinked at her several times, cursing whatever tricks his mind was playing on him to conjure her up in front of him in what looked to be next to nothing.

She yanked him to his feet and immediately wrapped her arms around him to stop him falling over as he lost his balance when the sudden movement made him see stars.

“Steady there, sailor,” she laughed at him.

_Can't blame a man for being unsteady around a Goddess like you. Next time don't stand on ceremony, you can grab me anytime you like._ The words echoed in his mind unspoken, his tongue thick and incapable of making the words. If Emma found his silence odd, she didn't comment on it, although she did blush under his gaze.

Emma led him down the corridor to the bathroom where she had run a bath. He stared at the water, trying to wrap his head around the idea of her running him a bath. He felt unstable and out of focus, getting into the water seemed like a one way trip. He leaned against the wall, head swimming, when a movement caught his eye and he turned to see Emma's beautiful bare body as her robe fell to the floor. He gaped at her, unable to stop himself from looking at her in awe. Was she intending to bathe with him? She'd surely be the death of him.

She looked up at him, instantly turning a beautiful shade of blush and covering herself with her hands. “Don't look,” she hissed, “I couldn't let you go in the bath alone in your state. Besides, skin to skin contact is meant to be good for you… I think.”

With some effort and averting of eyes, Killian clambered into the bath with Emma. He was nestled between her legs and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him against her lovely breasts. The feeling of her skin against his was divine, it was like this was where he was meant to be. His heart could explode with happiness.

His heart was going to explode.

The pain in his chest was intense, he felt like the hot water was crushing him. He gasped - or possibly yelped - and tried to get to his feet. Emma leapt to his aid at once, dragging him from the tub and laying him on the floor.

The pressure eased but cold overwhelmed him. Emma threw warmed towels over him and this time when she dried him off, the painful tingling had gone and it felt comforting.

“Shit shit shit,” Emma was chanting the curse word under her breath, Killian wondered how long she'd been saying it for.He was still struggling to make sense of anything but the feeling had shifted from that of being so drunk he was near collapse to merely the sleepy confusion you'd feel on first waking.

He looked at Emma and despite it being the first time he'd really seen her naked, something he had secretly wanted for a long time, it was her face that drew his gaze. She looked terrified. He lifted a towel that was lying across him like a blanket and patted the floor beside him. “C’mere,” he said.

She jumped a little and stared at him, startled. He was finally feeling lucid enough to get out his words. “Don't I need skin to skin contact?” He thought he'd managed them without slurring, although he couldn't manage a cheeky wink or arched brow as he would normally. The words seemed to have had the desired effect all the same: Emma rolled her eyes but smiled and lay down beside him, rolling him onto his side facing away from her and wrapping herself around him.

“Tell anyone that we snuggled naked and I'll make sure they know that you were the little spoon.” Killian smiled although his usually quick wit couldn't come up with a suitable reply.

He wasn't sure how long they lay there, just that Emma's touch seemed to bring life back to his body.

“Can you stand?” Emma asked and he realised with relief that he felt like he could. He nodded. “Good, you need a hot drink and bed.”

She helped him to his feet and he felt her loss at once, shivering at the unexpected chill he felt. She grabbed her own robe and passed it to him, but he shook his head. “Can't have my nurse getting sick too,” he explained. She snorted but pulled it on then wrapped him in towels and guided him to the sofa where she threw a blanket over him for good measure. Technically he thought he could've managed that on his own, but if Emma wanted to help, who was he to stop her?

Emma returned with a hot drink and a nervous look. “I have bad news:” she announced, “your backpack was soaked by that truck driver so there's nothing that you can wear, unless you want to squeeze into something of mine.”

He choked on his hot chocolate at the innuendo she had handed to him. She realised her mistake at once. She groaned and smacked him. “Well, at least I know you're feeling better, I guess.”

They sat in silence drinking their hot chocolate for several minutes. The hot mug felt wonderful in his hands and he could feel the drink warming him inside.

“I'm sorry, Killian,” Emma whispered and he looked at her in confusion.

“What for?”

“Making us take the bug and letting you get soaked and for taking us somewhere with no signal so I couldn't call for medical attention when we got here and nearly killing you with a bath.”

He scratched behind his ear, feeling very awkward. “What's a little attempted murder between friends?” he eventually said with a shrug.

“Killian, you nearly died!” Emma huffed and when he looked at her he realised there were tears streaming down her face.

He threw his arms around her. “Shhhh, less of that, Swan or I'll think you fancy me.” She sobbed harder still and he pulled back to look at her. He took her gently by the chin and tilted her face towards his so he could look her in the eye. “I'm a survivor, it'll take more than a bath to kill me.” She gazed at him with worry and uncertainty and it was too much for him. He just wanted to take her pain away and without thinking he pressed his lips to hers. He needed to comfort her, to show her just how OK he was, and how much she mattered to him.

It was meant to be a soft and gentle kiss, but she grabbed him and kissed him hard. Normally he'd have loved it, but he felt instantly light-headed and gently pushed her back. Emma looked crestfallen and he stroked her cheek gently.

“Sorry, love, I don't think I can handle that right now. Perhaps in the morning?” He hoped that he didn't sound as desperate as he felt, although Emma did brighten considerably at the suggestion. “Maybe you can help me to bed for more of that skin to skin contact in the meantime?”

She laughed at him, but helped him to his feet all the same. She guided him to bed and this time instead of trying hide herself, she waited until he was looking to drop her robe with a seductive smile.

“Bloody hell, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he laughed and pulled her into bed beside him.

“What's a little attempted murder between friends?” she teased as he pulled her close to him.

“Nothing,” he breathed, suddenly feeling the full weight of his exhaustion. And with his love in his arms and warmth in his heart, he fell asleep.

 


	5. A Series of Unfortunate Festive Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma is Killian’s emergency contact and she’s called into hospital after he has a horribly awkward festive accident.

Emma runs into the hospital and rushes straight to the reception desk. “Emma Swan here to see Killian Jones, there's been some kind of emergency, I got a call?”

To Emma's surprise and annoyance the receptionist sniggers. She grits her teeth trying not to screech ‘what the fuck?’ in the receptionist’s face. The woman must feel the full force of Emma's displeasure even without her saying a word, for she looks immediately chastised and a little embarrassed at letting her professional demeanour slip.

“I'm sorry, he's in room 4, just down the hall on the left.”

Emma gives the woman a suspicious look but heads off the way she pointed. She knocks on the door and on hearing a raspy “come in”, creeps into the room.

She gasps at the sight of Killian. His face is covered in scratches and bruises, there’s an intravenous drip in his good hand and his bad hand is bandaged up. He looks pale, but he manages a weak smile at the sight of her.

“What the fuck happened here?” she asks, rushing to his side. She’s trying to act normal around him, but her nerves are fried, she thought he was dead and the fucking receptionist actually laughed at her for asking after him. She finds herself completely, inexplicably and irrationally angry at Killian for the whole situation.

“Promise you won’t laugh at me?” Emma glares at him in reply, he meets her gaze for a moment and sighs melodramatically. “So I was at the Christmas Parade on Main Street -”

“Why?” interrupted Emma, unable to help herself, festive events like the Annual Storybrooke Christmas Parade were not Killian’s thing at all. He usually mocked those displays from inside a good bar with a glass of something warm and preferably alcoholic in hand and Emma alongside him.

He winced at the question “It’s a whole awkward situation where David wanted to see Mary Margaret, but she had promised to spend the day with Ruby and -”

“This is all starting to sound very high school.”

“Right. Sorry, basically: informal double date.”

Her annoyance at the situation grows - and then so does her annoyance at herself. Why should she care if Killian has a date? But then, why did he hide it from her? “I’m surprised you didn’t mention this?”

He shrugged. “Barely seemed worth mentioning - Ruby made it pretty clear she’s interested in Mulan and we were mostly checking out Santa’s elves together.”

“OK, so I still don’t understand how you got from that, to this.” Emma waves her hand at him awkwardly, then crosses her arms and slumps down on the bed to await his reply.

He moves his hand as though to scratch behind his ear, but winces as it pulls against his IV. _Good,_ Emma thinks vindictively. “Someone was handing out samples of spiced cookies? And..”

“You didn’t ask if they had nuts in?!” Emma yells at him before he can finish speaking.

“Of course I asked, I’m not a bloody idiot! It was some high school kid who clearly doesn’t understand the importance of accurately answering such questions.”

“So you went into shock …”

“Aye,” he agrees with a nod, “and that’s when it got bad.”

“Well, not being able to breathe would do that to you,” Emma says, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“I may have … stumbled into the parade.”

“Right …”

“And got tangled up in some bloody tinsel.”

“OK?”

“And landed on my face in front of the marching band -” Emma grimaces at what she’s sure he’s about to say “- who trampled my hand.”

Emma’s shaking her head at this entire situation. As much as she hates to admit it, she can understand why the receptionist laughed now. “Well, that’s …” Emma searches for something tactful to say. She’s not sure there is anything tactful, so she plumps for honest instead. “That’s fucking awful, but at least you’re OK.”

“I’ve not even told you everything yet.” Emma looks to the ceiling in exasperation before sighing and raising an eyebrow at him, lips pursed as she waits for more. “My epipen needs to be administered to the thigh - and an enthusiastic first aider felt the need to pull down my pants to give it to me.”

Emma’s lip twitched but she said nothing.

“And, well, I lost a bet with Will and as such I’ve been” Killian drops his voice and mutters the end of the sentence to himself.

“What’s that?”

Killian looks pained, but meets her eye. “I’ve been wearing novelty festive thongs for a week now.” Emma couldn’t help but snigger. “Today I had on a rudolph the red nose reindeer one -” Emma’s snigger grew into a full scale laugh “- it was furry and when they pulled my pants down, it started playing that bloody song while the nose flashed.” Emma couldn’t breathe she was laughing so hard. “I’m glad that my pain brings you such joy,” Killian says bitterly, scowling at Emma.

It takes Emma some time to compose herself, but when she finally does she thinks of something. “So what was this bet then?”

“A gentleman never tells.”

Emma frowns at this cryptic reply. “You literally just told me that the whole of Storybrooke saw your reindeer on display, but that is too personal?”

“Aye.”

“Killian…” Emma begins in a warning tone but she doesn’t get any further before he sighs and looks away from her.

“Fine, Will bet me that I wouldn’t ask a fair maiden to attend a gathering with her. I forfeited and thus I am doomed to wear novelty undergarments until the end of the year.”

“Don’t try to pull that Shakespeare crap to confuse me, Jones. I know what you’re saying, who is this girl and why wouldn’t you want to date her? Because this is so high school I could cry at how lame it is.”

“I do want to date her - but I know that she’ll say no so why suffer the agony of rejection -”

“- when you can become the laughing stock of the town?” Emma finishes for him.

“Well I didn’t exactly plan on all this happening!”

“No. I guess not.” The annoyance that Emma felt towards Killian earlier flares up once again - how dare he want to date some girl that he hadn’t even mentioned to her? He’s her best friend, she’s his _emergency contact_ , why all the secrecy? “So who is this girl that has Killian ‘I’m devilishly handsome’ Jones doubting himself? I can’t decide whether to hate her for making you feel this way or to high five her for knocking you down a peg or two.”

“You’d like her - doesn’t take any crap from anyone and basically kicks my ass all the time.”

Emma couldn’t explain why she’s so upset. It must just be all the emotions of the day - she’s obviously overwhelmed by everything that had happened.

“Good,” she spits out sounding entirely too bitter for her liking. _Get over it,_ she tells herself firmly and continues on in a far more even voice. “You need someone to help you curb your worst impulses.”

“She does do that.”

 _Who is this woman?_ Emma thinks desperately. _Could it be Belle? He always did seem to like her, although I did think that was platonic… Maybe Aurora? She seems a little too sweet for his taste, but maybe that’d be good for him?_

“Swan? You still with me?”

“Sorry, what?”

Killian tilts his head and studies her. “Are you mad at me?”

“No!” Emma replies a little too loud and too fast. “I mean, no, why would I be mad?” She attempts to lean back, but there’s nothing to lean back against and ends up sprawled out uncomfortably.

“I don’t know?” Killian says slowly and deliberately, “but you definitely seem tense.”

“I guess, I’m just wondering how there can be this perfect woman out there that you never saw fit to mention to me.” She tries for a breezy tone, but it comes out harsh and odd.

“Are you jealous?”

Emma scoffs, but can’t quite bring herself to meet Killian’s eye, he was always so good at reading her and she’s a little scared at what he might find.

“Oh Emma, don’t you know?” She looks up at his words, meeting his eyes. “It’s you.”

She feels like her mouth has dropped open like a cartoon character, such is her shock at his words. She doesn’t even think, just finds herself moving towards him and kissing him gently and it feels so good and so right that she doesn’t hesitate to grab his shoulders and pull -

“FUCK!” Killian yelps in pain, there’s a sudden beeping from his monitor and Emma springs back in shock. A nurse rushes into the room to see what the commotion is.

Right. He’s in hospital, he has tubes and things sticking in him. It’s not really the time for a full scale make out.

Emma flees to the side of the room and stands watching as the nurse fixes everything. “Do me a favour,” she says on her way out the room, “save the ‘thank God you’re alive’ passion until you’re at home, OK?”

Emma’s face flushes at the words but she just nods dumbly and moves back to linger uncomfortably at Killian’s side. Killian pats the bed next to him and Emma sits down carefully.

“So that was -” he begins, looking a little awestruck.

“Awkward.” Killian’s face falls. “Oh, no, I mean, the bit with the wires and hurting you. I liked the kissing - and the other part.”

“The part where I said I wanted to date you?”

Emma grins at the way Killian is smiling at her. “Yeah, that bit was good. Want to go on a date with me when you’re out of here?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you?”

“Well, it took you long enough already, I thought I’d cut to the chase.”

“True. Will you let me plan the date? I may have been thinking about this for an shamefully long time.”

“Absolutely,” Emma says, cheeks hurting from the way she can’t stop smiling. She’d be more embarrassed if Killian’s face didn’t have a matching dopey expression on it. “Just maybe don’t wear that rudolph thong, OK?”

Killian threw back his head and laughed. “Deal.”


	6. Frolic & Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CS + ice skating

Emma has no idea why she agreed to this but she really, really wishes that she hadn’t.

She’s only been on the ice for 33 seconds (but who’s counting) and she’s already regretting it with every fibre of her being. She’s not the most graceful of people when she’s on solid ground, what made her think that she could actually stand and move around with a couple of blades strapped to her feet on frozen water.

“Need a hand, love?” Killian calls out to her, reaching out his prosthetic towards her.

This. This right here is why she agreed to ice skating. The chance to hold Killian Jones’ hand for a little while and oh my god, when did she regress into a teenager?

She’s distracted enough by her own mortification that she fails to notice the small streak of lightning heading her way. One moment she is upright - more or less - the next a small devil (or possibly a 10 year old boy) has knocked her onto her ass. In her absolute shock she clung harder to Killian and dragged him down with her.

And now here she is, freezing cold, ass broken and utterly ashamed … But somehow with Killian lying on top of her it all feels, well, kind of nice really. Like, she’s right where she’s supposed to be and maybe she’s finally going to get that kiss she’s been longing for all this time.

She’s all but decided to pounce on his lips when the smooth fucker leaps to his feet in a way that she’s sure shouldn’t be humanly possible. She tries not to be annoyed at the blush she sees on his cheeks or the shame she sees in his eyes before he quickly averts them. Was falling over with her really that terrible?

But then he’s holding out his hand like the gentleman he is and she can’t help but swoon a little at the gesture. (Sadly not entirely figuratively - it seemed that Emma Swan and ice skates were not destined to be friends.)

After the third time of her nearly tumbling to the ice, Killian wraps his arm around her, tucking her in close to his side. The gesture almost knocks her off her feet - it’s so unexpected that she forgot to keep gliding her feet forward. But she can’t say that she’s all that sad to find that she fits quite nicely right there by his side. It’s quite lovely really.

The strange part of it all is how much like a date it feels when really she’s just spending time with one of her closest friends. He’s always that affectionate, she’s sure of it, if it feels like he’s a little closer today, it’s just because she can usually manage to walk unaided.

So she doesn’t think anything of it when he holds her hand to help her off the ice. And sure, he didn’t really need to help her get her skates off and return them for her, but what are friends for? It’s only when he stops her beneath the mistletoe and suggests that a little gratitude for his assistance on the ice may be in order that she realises that he sees it as a date too.


	7. The First Annual Hot Chocolate Contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian and Emma battle to discover who makes the best hot chocolate.

“So, who's it going to be Mary Margaret?” Emma asked, folding her arms in a not-so-subtle attempting to intimidate her sister into submission.

“Yes, whose hot chocolate concoction is the tastiest of them all?” Killian punctuated his question with a wink and a suggestive lick of his lips. Bastard. Emma knew how to seduce along with the best of them, but she could hardly pull those moves on her sister, even if she was adopted.

Emma arched her brow, the silent warning again falling for Killian's charms written all over her face. Mary Margaret sweated slightly under her gaze.

If you'd asked Emma to explain why winning The First Annual Hot Chocolate Contest meant so much to her, she honestly couldn't. Perhaps the competition had just awoken a previously dormant competitive streak. Perhaps it was that after the year she had she felt like she deserved a win. (Because, seriously, she had had to contend with the return of the ex who left her to have their child, Henry, in prison, Henry winding up in a coma after eating a poisoned pastry and a near-miss with a man who she dated happily until he proved to be mildly psychotic when she rejected his somewhat hasty proposal. Wasn't it about time for  _ something  _ to go her way?) Perhaps she just felt the need to wipe the infuriatingly beautiful and immensely smug smirk off Killian Jones’ face.

It was probably the latter.

Everyone had cast their votes and it all hung on Mary Margaret’s decision. It was a dead tie between Emma and Killian - no one else’s offerings got a look in. Mary Margaret’s white hot chocolate with honey whiskey was too sickly. Ruby’s red velvet hot chocolate was a strong contender, but lacked that something special. Robin’s rosemary-infused hot chocolate with vodka was intriguing but when even his fiancée Regina dismissed it for “smelling like forest” no one else felt the need to vote for him either. Regina herself was disqualified for  making spiced cider spiked with bourbon, she shrugged unapologetically at the verdict. David, with his “straight up classic” of hot chocolate with no trimmings, was nearly thrown out of the apartment by Emma for failing to take the contest seriously. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw a wounded expression cross her brother in law’s face for just a split second before he nodded briefly and evenly told them to “count me out”.

That left just her and Killian.

Emma was exceptionally proud of her creation. She had used cinnamon sugar vodka and bourbon combined with a rich milk hot chocolate and topped it with a homemade cinnamon marshmallow. It tasted fantastic and she knew it.

If she was up against anyone else, she’d know she had it in the bag, but Killian’s drink had been good. Really, really good. Begrudgingly she could even admit to it being excellent - and that’s why she had voted for him herself, as much as it felt like a betrayal.

But seriously, the drink was like Christmas in a cup. He’d mixed spiced rum, peppermint schnapps and dark hot chocolate and topped it with swirls of whipped cream so perfect that Emma suspected he had been practicing. He completed the look with tiny candy cane sprinkles and an actual mini candy cane. Mary Margaret was a sucker for anything festive, he was sure to get her vote.

It wasn’t even like there was a prize - unless you counted bragging rights. Emma seriously should not be this desperate to win.

“Well, you know I love cinnamon on my hot chocolate,” Mary Margaret began, Emma’s heart raced, hearing the  _ but _ in her voice. “But I do love a good festive drink and Killian’s minty chocolate was really Christmassy…” she trailed off, looking between the two anxiously and Emma’s heart sank. “They were both just so good.”

“Say no more, milady, I know not to come between the Swan sisters and their love of hot chocolate with cinnamon. I concede defeat to Emma, knowing that my offering was a worthy contender.” Emma’s eyebrows flew up in shock at Killian’s concession. He’d been needling her about his “secret recipe” for weeks now, and he gave up just like that?

Mary Margaret breathed a sigh of relief and nodded happily at the turn of events. Killian raised Emma’s arm up in a sign of victory. The others made a show of clapping half-heartedly, before forgetting all about the contest and going back to chatting.

Emma shrugged Killian off and turned to him, eyes narrowing in suspicion. She felt irrationally angry. She didn’t want to win just because he let her - she wanted to beat him fair and square. Somehow, she felt cheated; her victory seemed hollow.

He walked off down the hall towards the bathroom before she could say anything, and she followed him, needing to speak her mind. She grabbed him by the arm, turning him to her. 

“What was that?” she hissed, “you haven’t missed a chance to rub my face in your supposedly superior hot chocolate making skills, and now you just throw in the towel at the last hurdle?”

He shrugged. “Yours was better, Swan, I voted for you myself.”

She stamped her foot, in a move that even 10-year old Henry would have found unbearably childish. “I don’t need your sympathy votes, I can win off my own merit you know.”

Killian looked bewildered at her outburst. “I know you can. You can do anything!” She felt a blush rise on her cheeks - she had to struggle to remember that she was meant to be mad at him. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to use the facilities. If you want, you can wait here to yell at me some more when I’m finished?”

Emma’s mouth dropped open in shock at his words. She didn’t know whether she felt more annoyed at him or less now. She was still debating it when Killian reappeared minutes later.

“So, what’s the verdict? Am I still a terrible scoundrel for accepting that the best man should win?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her cheekily.

“Scoundrel?” she repeated in disbelief, “you know you’re not Han Solo, right?”

“I fancy I’d make a rather good space pirate actually.”

“Don’t you mean a smuggler?”

“And you think smugglers aren’t pirates?”

Emma opened her mouth to argue with him, before shutting it abruptly. How had he managed to distract her from being mad at him with a ridiculous argument? He made to move past her, but she held out her arm to stop him. “Not so fast.”

He arched his eyebrow at her quizzically. “Are you taking me hostage?”

Her face burned with embarrassment, but she just wanted to understand why he’d done that.

“I just… what’s going on here?”

“Well, I needed the bathroom and you wanted to accost me.”

“I mean with - you know, telling Mary Margaret to pick me.”

He sighed and scratched behind his ear. “Seems like you could do with a win.” Emma was honestly a little surprised by Killian’s comment. It was entirely true, but it’s not exactly something that she had shared with him. He must have misinterpreted the look of curious confusion on her face because he quickly carried on, “I wouldn’t for one minute suggest that you couldn’t have won entirely off your own back, but honestly, I thought Mary Margaret’s head was going to explode with the weight of choosing. What I did was as much for her as it was for you.”

“How did you know that?”

“Know what?”

“That I needed a win?”

“I’m quite perceptive - and you’re something of an open book to me.”

His words stirred something in her. Now that she came to think of it, it was Killian, more so than any of her other friends (or even her sister), who noticed when she was down. He was usually the one to comfort her too, mostly because she didn’t actually have to ask him to do it, he was just there with whatever she needed, be it a stirring speech or a glass or rum.

How had she never realised that before?

The realisation left her a little flustered.

“I … well, yeah, thanks for that. I did kind of need it. That probably sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

His eyes were soft and understanding. “Sometimes everyone needs a win.” They gazed at each other for a minute, anticipation filling the air. “Perhaps a little gratitude is in order?” Killian broke the tension with a cheeky suggestion and a tap on his lips.

Emma rolled her eyes, but found herself tempted. Really tempted. And without giving herself time to change her mind she gave into the urge and dragged Killian’s lips to hers. He gave a little “oof” of surprise but kissed her back passionately. His body was warm and firm against hers. He made delightful little noises of desperation and desire. He tasted of chocolate and spices.

“What are you two up to through there?” David’s voice drifted towards them, breaking the spell. Emma sprang back from Killian, panting a little and suddenly confused and uncertain.

“Nothing!” Emma called back and moving back towards the group.

“Wait, Emma,” Killian pulled her back to him. He looked dazed and his lips were swollen from their kiss. “That was…”

Emma panicked suddenly and blurted out, “your consolation prize. Better luck next year, Jones.” Without another word or a backwards glance, she walked away. Something told her that if she let herself, Killian could spell big trouble for her. She settled back to chatting among their friends and ignoring the tingle she could still feel from where Killian had held her and his taste on her tongue.


	8. My Festive Nemesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We both bumped into each other under some mistletoe and kissed but it turns out you’re the kid from third grade who would tie my shoelaces together and I still hate you for that”

Emma had been at the Nolans’ Winter Wonderland party for an hour and a half when she spots him. A man so handsome he takes her breath away. (Although if questioned, she would blame the chocolate and cinnamon cocktail shots.) And as luck would have it, he was waiting under the mistletoe, with lips that were just begging to be kissed.

Normally she'd be deeply distrustful of anyone loitering under that fucking kiss trap, but honestly she was surprised she'd noticed it herself in amongst the wintery decor. Mary Margaret's decorations actually made Buddy the Elf’s seem tastefully understated and the whole room looked like a children's Christmas craft session gone horribly wrong. So yes, trawling for mistletoe kisses was usually a total turn off, tonight though, she saw nothing but opportunity.

She just had to get to him before anyone else did. She'd already spotted a potential threat at six o’clock, a petite blonde sending very appreciative looks at her target. She had to take action.

She locked eyes with him and noticed there was something strangely familiar about them. She dismissed the thought when she saw to her delight that he licked his lips at the sight of her. Emboldened, she marched right up to him, grabbed his lapels and dragged his lips down to hers.

She heard a little noise of surprise coming from him, but it didn't stop him from responding very enthusiastically.

She kissed him long and hard, at first determined to mark him as hers, but soon all conscious thoughts had melted from her mind. There was only this man and what he could do with his lips and his tongue.

When the need for air became too much, Emma reluctantly broke away from him. Although she stayed close, nuzzling her nose against his and opening her eyes just enough to note how overcome he was by her kiss.

“That was -” he panted, voice filled with awe.

“Traditional.”

He pulled back properly at that, clearly utterly bewildered. He quirked his head on one side, studying her face in confusion.

“I'm afraid I don't follow, love. It's your tradition to pounce on unsuspecting men?”

Emma giggled and pointed up at the mistletoe. She knew she was right about him. He followed the line of her finger then groaned when he finally saw it.

“Bloody hell.” He ran his hand through his hair, “how bloody sad and desperate must I have looked? I swear I didn't know it was there.”

“Oh I don't know, I saw at least one other girl eyeing you up. Really that kiss was a rescue mission, you never know who might’ve kissed you.”

“My saviour,” he murmured into her ear. His voice caused her heart to flutter. “Might I show my gratitude Miss -?”

He had paused expectantly, Emma suddenly realised he was reaching for her name.

“Swan. Emma. I'm Emma Swan.” she supplied, a little breathless from his close proximity.

He moved back, eyebrows shooting up in surprise, “Emma Swan?!”

“Er… yeah?” Emma suddenly felt incredibly awkward. This man whose eyes had been full of sin and desire were now filled with what looked suspiciously like recognition and delight.

“I'm Killian,” he laughed, “Killian Jones, from third grade. Remember me?”

Emma's eyes flashed indignantly, “you!” she hissed. She shoved him hard. “You were my nemesis!”

To her dismay he threw his head back and laughed at her. She shoved him again, irritated by his response.

“I realise I was a little unkind Swan, but I think that's needlessly melodramatic.”

“You tied my shoelaces together on my first day of school! It was bad enough that the teacher picked on me to “tell everyone about yourself”, but thanks to you I fell on my face and broke my nose! I had black eyes for weeks!”

He looked uncomfortable and scratched behind his ear sheepishly. “Aye. 8 year old me hadn't quite learned how to talk to girls he fancied.” Her eyes widened in shock, “Luckily for you that's all changed and I still quite fancy you, when you're not yelling at me, that is. You must allow me to make the proper reparations.” He leant down to kiss her again. She nearly fell for it, but snapped out of it at the last second and shoved him hard.

“Your lips are never touching mine again, buddy. You made 8 year old Emma’s life miserable and I owe it to her to tell you to go fuck yourself.”

He chuckled, “8 year old Emma has grown into a woman with quite the foul mouth on her. 28 year old Emma can surely find a better use for her lips than swearing at me?”

He raised an eyebrow, and tapped his lips with one finger in a silent challenge.

“Please,” she sneered, “you couldn't handle it.” Before he could reply she pushed past him in search of hard liquor.

***

“So you and Killian, eh?” Mary Margaret said brightly as she returned from delivering yet another frightened four year old to Santa. Emma gritted her teeth, trust Mary Margaret to wait until she couldn't speak freely to launch her attack.

“Nope.”

“What?” Mary Margaret’s voice is sickly sweet and her eyes comically wide. She practically looked like Snow White, a picture of pure innocence. Emma wasn't fooled, her friend was a devious bandit on a mission to destroy Emma's love life. (And she'd probably think she was “saving” it, disregarding Emma's complete lack of interest in dating, in her quest to find Emma's Happy Ending™.)

“This is not the time to have this conversation and you know it.” Emma spoke quietly with a grin fixed on her face. She nodded towards the queue of children waiting patiently to see Santa Claus and raising her eyebrows pointedly. “There are tiny humans here who do not need to know about Santa's elves’ extra curricular activities. They think all we do is make gifts and bake gingerbread.”

Emma's cheeks were hurting from the forced grin she had plastered across her face.

“It's just that last time I saw you at my party you were… cuddling… very intently, but I didn't see you after that. Did you take him home to show him your baubles?”

Emma gasped a little and furtively glanced at the next in line. It was a little girl, happily babbling about meeting Santa and a slightly bored looking older boy. It looked like they were with a dark haired man, but it was hard to tell as they were crouched down and mostly obscured by the pair. Luckily whoever they were, they seemed too engrossed by the girl’s chatter to notice their conversation.

“Stop this. Right now.”

“Did you jingle his bells? Perhaps he came down your chimney?”

“Mary Margaret!” she hissed. “Yes, we ... cuddled, but when we realised that we went to school together -”

“Oh! And you found each other after all this time! How romantic!”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Trust you to look at it like that. He was my nemesis.” It was Mary Margaret's turn to roll her eyes.

“Your nemesis? This sounds like an excuse to shut out a handsome m...elf who looks like he knows exactly what to do with a nice pair of baubles.”

“He also gave me two black eyes on my first day at my new school. Hardly perfect elf material.”

Mary Margaret gasped, and Emma couldn't help but feel a bit smug.

“Explain.”

“Shoelaces were tied, there was a face floor interface, and questions were raised about my foster parents for weeks after.”

Emma was irritated to see Mary Margaret breathe a sigh of relief.

“So it was an accident.”

Emma narrowed her eyes, “whose side are you on?”

“I'm not saying he did a good thing, but he didn't _mean_ to hurt you, did he?”

“He _meant_ to trip me up.” Mary Margaret looked entirely unperturbed.

“And how old were you when he committed this heinous crime?”

“8.”

Mary Margaret fixed Emma with her disappointed teacher expression. “Oh Emma,” she shook her head sadly, “that wall of yours...it may keep out pain but it may also keep out love.”

Trust her friend to try to turn this into a “teaching moment”, Emma’s temper flared. “Killian Jones is _not_ my love, I am not going to suck his candy cane and he is not going to make me see twinkly lights when I ride his sleigh.”

“Oh really, Swan? I can guarantee I'd make it good for you.”

Emma's eyes closed in horror, and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She forced her Happy Santa’s Helper Elf smile onto her face then slowly let her breath out through gritted teeth as she turned to face her nemesis.

Of course he was the man there with the next two kids in line. She'd been so busy disparaging Mary Margaret that she hadn't noticed that he'd shuffled close enough to hear them.

She should be embarrassed. She should. But all she felt was incandescent rage. How dare he kiss her like that when he’s got kids and probably a wife at home. This was so much worse than the shoelaces.

“How dare you?” she seethed. His cocky grin slipped a little at her poisonous tone.

“How about I take you two through to see Santa?” Mary Margaret's voice was full of enthusiasm as she directed Killian's kids attention away from the scene unfolding. She lead the two kids away sending a sympathetic look Killian's way that enraged Emma all the more.

“I'm not sure I follow love, but if you were to enjoy me as a festive treat I'd return the favour tenfold.”

“And how would your wife feel about you propositioning an elf?” Killian was outright frowning now, _busted,_ thought Emma feeling utterly vindicated.

“My… wife?” he spoke slowly, his eyes full of confusion.

“The mother of your children?” Emma prompted and the man had the audacity to grin at her. “I can't believe you kissed me the other night! Just because you're missing your -”

“Let me stop you before you say something truly offensive, _love_ ,” Killian spoke darkly, nearly spitting out the nickname. “ _You_ kissed _me_. I was merely an innocent bystander stood in an unintentionally festive spot. And even if I had been loitering below the mistletoe intent on seducing gullible princesses, I would be well within my rights. I am single. Those two lovely children are my brother's and if you'll excuse me -”

A muffled yelp from within Santa’s Grotto cut Killian off, followed by a shout of “Oh shi-iny baubles!” Emma stifled a giggle, trust David to come up with a swearing alternative suitable for Santa.

Mary Margaret popped her head out of the grotto and called out in an urgent stage whisper, “Emma, Killian, SOS, save our Santa!”

They rushed in after her and saw David pinned to the floor by Killian's nephew. The boy had a triumphant, crazed gleam in his eye. He was waving David’s false beard in the air like a trophy. And all the while he crowed in delight, “Santa’s a fake! Santa’s a fake!” Killian's niece was stood in the corner wailing.

Emma looked on in horror, ever more convinced that Killian really was her nemesis. His latest mission? To destroy Christmas. These “relations” of his were clearly in fact his agents of doom.

_He's the fucking Anti-Santa!_ The thought had just come to her mind, when Killian let out an ear-splitting whistle. The children immediately fell silent.

“Aiden Jones you unhand Father Christmas this minute,” Killian commanded. His forceful tone sent a shiver down Emma's spine, followed quickly after by a wave of irritation at her treacherous body.

“But Uncle Killian! That man is telling lies, daddy says it's naughty to tell lies!” The boy whined, before dropping his voice to say urgently, “he is an imposter!”

Emma could have laughed at the entirely sincere expression on Aiden’s face.

Killian sighed and lifted his nephew off David. He crouched down beside the boy.

“What else is naughty Aiden?” There was a mumble from the shame-faced boy. “I can't hear you, Aiden.”

“It's naughty to be mean to people.”

“Aye, and wouldn't you say wrestling Santa to the ground, sitting on him, stealing his beard and shouting at him was mean?”

More mumbling.

“Aiden…” Killian said warningly.

“Yes Uncle Killian.” Aiden turned to David Claus, “I'm sorry Mr Not Santa, I didn't mean to be naughty.”

“Very good, your father is going to hear about this though.” Aiden stuck his bottom lip out, but otherwise stayed silent. His mischievous nephew dealt with, Killian turned to his niece. “Anya?” the girl immediately ran to her uncle's arms. “It's true that this man isn't the original Santa Claus, he's very busy making your presents right now. He is however, a special Agent of Santa -” Emma snorted a little at the creative explanation of the multiple Santas, Killian shot a dark look her way.

Anya peered at her curiously. “Really, Elf lady?”

Emma knelt down next to her, nodding solemnly. “Oh, absolutely. We help Santa to find out what all the children want - and to distribute presents. But let’s keep that secret between us, it’ll make you a special Agent of Santa too.”

Anya beamed at Emma in wonder, nodding and Emma felt all warm inside. Just because the girl had a tool for an uncle, didn’t mean she shouldn’t get to enjoy the magic of Christmas. “Did you get chance to tell Santa’s agent what you want for Christmas?” Anya shook her head. “Come along then.”

She stood up and held out her hand to Anya, who wriggled free of Killian’s grasp and ran to Emma. David had managed to settle back in his Santa chair, false beard back in place, with a little help from Mary Margaret. Emma led the girl over to David, who instantly scooped her up without the slightest hint that mere moments before he had been attacked by a tiny demon.

“What’s your name, little one?” David launched into the Santa spiel at once and Anya’s little eyes gleamed with unsuppressed delight. Emma felt gooey inside. This was why she did the whole “Santa’s elf” thing. Yes, she could be kind of a grinch, but seeing little kids full of joy made her grinchy heart grow several sizes each and every time she saw it.

She looked up and caught Killian looking at her, wearing his own expression of delight. Emma smiled back, before remembering herself and frowning at him. Her heart shrank back down to its previous size.

So maybe she had been wrong about the married thing. Perhaps it was vaguely adorable that he was taking care of his niece and nephew. And it was possible that there was something about the way he took charge of the situation with a firm hand that made her wonder how he might take charge in other, less family friendly situations … But, still, he definitely broke her nose as a child. If she trusted him now, what else might he break?

***

“Si-i-lent night, ho-o-ly niiight!”

God, Emma wished it was a silent fucking night. Whoever invented the concept of door to door carolling deserved to be stabbed to death with sharpened candy canes.

It’s not that the carollers were exactly _bad_ they just weren’t exactly singing in sync, and at least one of them didn’t seem to exactly know the words. Maybe if she just stayed quiet they would go away?

When they launched into their very enthusiastic version of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”, Emma realised that that wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t want to throw open the door and tell them to piss off, but equally she really wanted them to leave. She was struck by a devious idea, she could sneak out the back and throw snowballs at them from the cover of the bushes around the front. That should send a nice clear message of “fuck off”, while allowing her to maintain anonymity.

She pulled on her outdoor gear and crept out the back door, scooping up snow as she went. She hesitated when she spotted that the group was comprised of two kids and a man, but figured that as long as she only hit the adult that was ok.

She got her first snowball ready, took aim for the back of the man’s head, and let it fly. He turned at the exact moment the snow left her hand. It was Killian Jones.

_Of course_ it was fucking Killian and _of course_ he had caught her red handed.

His eyes widened in shock and he ducked his head - but not fast enough to avoid it and it hit him smack in the nose. She was torn between a feeling of horror and gleeful victory. Finally she had had her revenge.

The feeling was very short lived when she heard him cry out “bloody hell!” His hand flew to his nose, but not before she saw the blood pouring from it. _Oh fuck._

She scrambled out of the bushes to help him. The kids were Killian’s adorable niece and monstrous nephew. True to form the niece had burst into tears at the sight of her bleeding uncle, while the nephew had said “cool” with an appreciative nod.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing Killian’s hand away from his face and wincing at the bloody mess she’d made of his face. “Come with us kids,” she added as an afterthought to the little ones. She pulled him inside, and ran to get a face cloth and ice.

It took far longer than it should have to get Killian cleaned up. Not only did she have him to deal with, but also a distraught little girl and a curious demon. She only got them to settle down and let her help uncle Killian by pulling out her stash of snickerdoodles. It was a wrench to give them up, but she might be able to persuade Mary Margaret to make more for her, and this was a genuine emergency.

The kids were merrily drawing when Killian was finally good to go.

“Are we even now?” Killian murmured quietly, “I’m quite impressed by your dedication to the pursuit of your revenge.”

“I didn’t realise that it was you.”

He raised his brows in surprise. “You would have treated anyone coming to your door to spread a little festive cheer in such a manner? I think you may need to have your elf licence revoked!”

Emma reached around for an appropriately witty comeback, but none came to mind. “Yeah, probably. I’m sorry for that.”

“Now you know how bad I felt.”

Killian’s comment made absolutely no sense to her. “When?”

“When you hurt yourself because of me? I really didn’t think tying your shoelaces together would be _that_ bad, and Will had dared me to do it and …”

Emma smiled and shook her head. “It’s ok, I should probably get over it, it was 20 years ago after all.”

“My brother punched me for it when he found out too, said that it’s not ‘good form’ to wound a lady.”

Emma laughed. “I like the sound of this brother of yours.”

“He’s a great guy, never lets me get away with anything, much like you.”

“Can we go yet, Uncle Killian?” whined Aiden, Emma jumped, she had entirely forgotten that the kids were there. “I don’t want to watch you kissing your girlfriend.” Emma blushed a deep red, as did Killian.

“Oh, Miss Swan is not my girlfriend -”

“She should be!” chimed in Anya. “She’s very pretty.” She turned to Emma, nodding at her approvingly. “You’re very pretty, and Uncle Killian fancies you, and that’s why he makes gooey eyes at you.” Anya stage whispered the rest in a way that presumably was very subtle to her childish mind. “That’s what he does when he fancies someone.”

Killian had leapt to his feet and dragged the kids out of their chairs. “All ready to go? Good good,” he exclaimed bustling the kids to the door. “Goodbye, Swan”

And before Emma could respond to anything that had just happened, they were gone.

***

Emma found herself thinking about Killian a lot over the next few days.

She thought about the way he had blushed at the accusation that he fancied her. She thought about how good it had felt to kiss him. She thought about his promise to return the favour tenfold if she were to suck on his candy cane. She couldn’t help but wonder what that might entail.

She was still thinking about him as she decorated her house for Christmas, wondering whether he would like the way she decorated. Not that it mattered. She was decorating everything just for herself. For the first time ever she was going to put up lights outside. She loved the twinkly lights and didn’t she deserve a little holiday magic in her life?

She was up a ladder, concentrating hard on attaching the damn things to her house when she heard a voice behind her. “Need a hand, love?”

She might have been pleased at his appearance, if it hadn’t startled her so much that her ladder wobbled and she toppled from it, pulling the lights down with her.

She found herself in Killian’s arms. He had caught her, like some kind of Disney prince, and man if that didn’t make him hotter. His eyes flitted over her in alarm. It was kind of nice to have someone show that much concern for her. “Are you ok, love? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice came out all breathy, she felt like a starry-eyed maiden in a romance novel. She needed to stop this right now. “The lights probably aren’t though. Could … could you put me down so I can check them?”

“Oh! Of course!” Killian blushed and carefully placed her down.

She looked at the lights and was dismayed to see that she had indeed pulled down every last one. She sighed deeply and decided to just pack them away again when Killian spoke up. “Can I help you put the lights up again?” She looked up in shock and saw him stood there, nervously scratching behind his ear.

“You don’t have to,” she dismissed the suggestion, looking back down at her fallen decorations and reaching a hand out for them.

He covered her hand with his, and she looked back up to see that he was much closer than before, their faces were practically touching. He looked her dead in the eye. “No, but I want to.”

She gulped a little and pulled her hand back. “Sure,” she said with a breeziness that she didn’t feel.

With Killian holding her tightly against the ladder and directing her, Emma was able to get all the lights hung in no time. She flicked the switch and squealed with delight when they came on.

“Thank you, Killian!” she beamed at him.

He beamed back and shrugged a little bashfully, but then she saw something turn in his gaze. In a moment he switched from adorable to seductive. No, not seductive, that was just wishful thinking.

He swayed closer to her. “Perhaps a little gratitude is in order?” he asked, tapping at his lips suggestively. Maybe it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

“Please, you couldn’t handle it.” She smirked at him, enjoying the anticipation of their flirting.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle _it._ ”

It was an outright challenge and one that she was more than happy to accept. She pounced on him, kissing him hard. For a moment he rocked back startled, but he quickly caught up and grabbed her close to him. She lost all track of time in the perfection of this kiss, she never wanted it to end. Eventually though she needed to breathe and broke apart from him, still holding him close to her.

“Want to come inside and check out my baubles?” she asked with a wink.

He grinned in reply. “That depends, Swan, have you been a good girl this year?”

“Oh no, I’m definitely on the naughty list.”

“Well perhaps we need to see what we can do to get you off.”

“... it,” Emma finished with a smirk.

“I know what I said.” He kissed her neck and murmured straight into her ear, “and I absolutely meant it. Now let’s get inside.”

Emma giggled and dragged him inside her house where she let him make amends for his youthful crimes quite thoroughly. Several times. Well, she did love a good redemption story.


	9. The Second Annual Hot Chocolate Contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow up to [The First Annual Hot Chocolate Contest](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12882678/chapters/29588859) \- this is kind of sad, although I promise, it ends happily.

For the second year in a row, Emma Swan was ridiculously invested in the results of a hot chocolate contest. But in a twist that she never saw coming, she didn't want the win for herself, but for Killian.

Even if Killian had made it clear that whatever she thought was between them was absolutely over.

And that was fine. 

It's not that they were together or anything, but after the kiss they had shared at last year's contest, she'd found herself noticing everything he did for her and gravitating towards him more and more. They hadn't ever said anything, but soon they were doing everything together and he'd become a part of the family. Hell, he was even teaching Henry to sail. 

She knew that he wasn't actually her boyfriend. There would have been kisses and sex and actual dates with a boyfriend, but damn if he wasn't more or less her boyfriend in every other respect. 

He had even taken to sleeping over when a movie marathon with her and Henry went on too late, or when they'd been out drinking with the gang and he had to escort her home and it would just be rude of her not to invite him in for a night cap. At first he had always slept on the couch, but one drunken night she demanded that he share her bed and after that, he slept with her. He was still a perfect gentleman and never made a move, but more often than not on those nights she fell asleep and woke up in his arms.

She had finally worked up the nerve, with Henry's enthusiastic support, to ask him out. (Because seriously, if he spent another night in her bed just holding her when she was desperate for more she was going to scream.) 

And of course that's when everything had suddenly changed. 

He had unexpectedly gone out of town for a couple of days and when he returned he was a little distant with her. At first that was all - he seemed tired and sad when she saw him. He somehow lacked that Killian Jones sparkle. She had stepped up her flirting game, trying to bring back his flirtatious side with her own cheeky innuendos, but that only seemed to irritate him.

Then he started actively avoiding her.

He stopped dropping by just because, he made excuses to avoid plans, and he even cancelled Henry's sailing lessons. She knew that it wasn't just her, all their friends were reporting that he'd gone AWOL. But no one else spent as much time with him as she did, so no one else felt the loss as badly.

Then  _ Tink _ came to live with him and everything became clear.

He'd found himself a real girlfriend and no longer had time for an almost one.

She couldn't say that it wasn't a shock. 

Not least because Tink was an ex and one that Emma would never have expected him to get back together with. In a drunken night Killian and Emma had shared everything about their pasts and Tink was someone he met while spending a year in New Zealand. To hear him tell it, they were only together because the tiny town they lived in had so little going for it that sex and alcohol were the only available pastimes. While she couldn't say that she wasn't at all jealous when he talked about how adventurous Tink was in bed (or out of it) in great detail, she never felt like Tink was anything more than an amazing fuck buddy.

Apparently she had that really wrong.

Still though, Emma found that she couldn't bring herself to hate Killian. She had been the one to always draw the line at friendship for them, who could blame him for moving on? 

She just missed him.

She hadn't really realised how much until she brought her spiced rum and hot chocolate made with coconut milk and topped with coconut flakes to the contest. Ruby refused to even taste it, so strong was her hatred of coconut and Regina “doesn't do rum”. But Killian? His eyes had lit up at the very idea and he'd called it heavenly. And of course he would, she knew that he thought that chocolate and coconut combined was a gift from the gods. She hadn't intended to make the perfect hot chocolate for Killian Jones and no one else, but he was so much on her mind that she couldn't help it. 

And yet, delighted though he had been, she couldn't help but notice that he didn't seem as exuberant as he once was. He seemed somehow duller - a little grey where once he was all vibrant colours.

She found herself eyeing Tink suspiciously, wondering if she was the reason for this new and subdued Killian. 

She hoped that winning the contest would bring back his sparkle.

After last year's standoff, Mary Margaret had insisted on a secret vote. Emma couldn't blame her, it's not like she knew that Emma was rooting for Killian this time.

Everyone had made their choices, and they were ready to reveal the winner. They just had to wait for Killian and Tink to get back from.. wherever they had gone. Emma couldn't bear to think about what exactly they might be doing.

And, typically she really needed to pee. She hoped that she could hold it in until they were back in the room and there was no chance she’d run into them making out, but eventually she couldn’t take it anymore. She stood up to leave. 

“Oh, if you’re going out the room, can you let Killian and Tink know that we’re waiting?” Mary Margaret asked. Caught on the spot as she was, Emma couldn’t think of an excuse not to and she nodded with what she hoped was a smile, although it was probably more of a grimace.

Maybe she could walk to the bathroom with her eyes closed?

_ You need to get over this thing Killian. It’s really not healthy. _ She told herself sternly.

As she headed for the bathroom, she heard the sound of voices coming from the bedroom. Good, they were just talking, that was fine, that she could handle.

“Don’t you think you should tell them?”

“We said we’d keep it between us.” Emma paused, what should Killian tell them? Her mind was reeling, was this something the reason for Killian’s strange behaviour recently? Was it a good thing or a bad thing? Oh God, what if they were pregnant and he didn’t want to say anything because he thought that she would react badly?

She was spiralling quickly and knocked on the door to save herself from hearing anything else. She pushed the door open and they both sprange to their feet, looking strangely guilty.

“We’re ready to count the votes and stuff,” she mumbled and looked up at them. Killian had more buttons undone than he had when they’d left the room. He looked a little sweaty and breathless. Her eyes widened, had she interrupted a post-coital chat? “Wait, were you two…?” she trailed off, not really wanting to ask that question (or more accurately, to hear their answer.

“No!” Tink cried horrified at the exact moment that Killian said “perhaps” with a smirk. Tink glared at him and whacked him on the arm.

Emma really didn’t want to know.

“Everyone’s waiting,” she said bluntly and stalked to the bathroom.

She took far longer than necessary, giving herself time to calm down so that she didn’t cause a scene and ruin Killian’s big moment. (She was pretty sure he was going to win. He’d stepped up his game from already near-perfection last year with a minty hot chocolate with homemade red and white striped mini mint marshmallow on top of his typically perfect cream swirl and with a generous dusting of edible glitter.)

She finally returned and the votes were read out - aside from Killian’s vote for her, the decision was unanimous: Killian had won.

He stood and bowed. “Thank you all for your votes. It’s glad to know that my friends have such good taste and understand when they are in the presence of great-” he broke off mid speech, clutching at his heart with a groan.

Emma’s blood ran cold. She’d always thought that was a weird expression, but on seeing the man she loved suddenly in excruciating pain, she literally felt like she had ice running through his veins.

She ran to his side, but he swatted her away. “Tink -” he rasped pleadingly. Of course. He wanted his girlfriend in his time of need. Unrequited love really was a bitch. 

She stepped back and to her surprise Tink was checking his pulse and helping him to sit back down. She looked between the two of them in shock and confusion. Why would she check his pills? Was Killian ill? Was this what she had overheard them discussing?

“Killian, please, let me tell your friends,” Tink begged and Killian eventually nodded. Emma watched her warily, unsure of what she might have to say. “Killian has coronary heart disease.” Emma felt like she’d been stabbed through the heart. She let out a distressed whimper that had Killian looking to her and attempting to give her a reassuring smile. It might have worked better if he weren’t so pale. 

“He had a heart attack in October,” Tink continued, “at the time he had a surgery that should have helped him to manage the condition. However, it didn’t work as well as hoped and he needs another procedure, which he’s having this week. I’m Killian’s nurse and I’ve been living with him to help him manage day to day. He should be able to regain his independence and get rid of me at last -” “- good riddance -” Killian interrupted playfully “- once he’s recovered from this procedure.”

Emma’s knees gave out and she realised that Mary Margaret was wrapped around her, offering support and holding her upright.

Her brain didn’t know how to process everything she had just heard. Killian was sick. He had had a heart attack. He had hidden this from her. _He wasn’t dating Tink._

God, what a terrible thing to fixate on now. He was ill, really ill and all she could think about was that maybe she stood a chance. Although, he’d never told her about any of this, had he? He’d run away from her instead of letting her support him. She felt incredibly angry at the thought.

“What the fuck, Killian?” she straightened up and pushed Mary Margaret away. His eyes widened as she stalked closer. “Why didn’t you tell me - tell us - didn’t I, didn’t we, deserve to know? Do I really mean that little to you?”

“Let’s give them some privacy,” David said, ushering everyone out of the room, but Emma barely heard him.

“You really think that, Emma?” Killian asked quietly. “After everything, you think that you don’t matter to me?”

She stomped over to him and slumped on the couch next to him. “What else can I think? You just left me and found someone else.”

“I left you? I didn’t know we were together?” She turned to glare at him and was surprised to see that he looked pleased.

“Look, I know I never said anything, but yeah, I thought that we were something and then you just pulled a disappearing act and then you were living with Tink and what was I meant to think?”

“Oh, Emma.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side. She settled her head against his chest, listening for the sound of his traitorous heart beat. They stayed like that for several minutes, neither one saying a word.

She sniffed loudly and was startled by the sound, she hadn’t actually realised that she was crying. Killian gently moved her so he could look her in the eye and wiped away her tears. 

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to mess everything up so badly. 

“When I - when I got sick it just threw me completely. I’ve always been a sailor and I’ve always thought of myself as a survivor and all of a sudden I couldn’t go out on the water and my body was giving up on me. I didn’t know how to cope and I didn’t want to be a burden to you. 

“Half the time I shut myself away because I was in too much pain, the other half I was just convinced that you wouldn’t want me around. I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

“You deal with it by coming to me!” Emma cried out, “we could have got through it together!” Killian smiled at her, eyes full of adoration. “What?” she asked hotly.

“You’re using that word again.”

“What word?”

“Together. I like the sound of that.” She smiled despite herself. “Do you - do you still want that?”

She found that she didn’t have the words. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his softly and gently. The kiss was sweet and chaste but full of the promise of so much more. “Yeah, I still want that.”

When the others re-entered the room, Killian and Emma were holding each other close. They were going to get through it all together.

By the time of The Third Annual Hot Chocolate Contest there was a sparkling ring on Emma’s finger and neither one of them needed a win. They already had everything they needed in each other’s arms.


	10. The Tackiest Wreath Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Killian are tricked into a festive wreath making blind date.

Killian was not sure what possessed Belle to suggest that they should do a wreath making class and he had even less idea what possessed him to accept. Him and wreath making were just incompatible: only having one hand made arts and crafts challenging and his idea of Christmas spirit was a good bottle of rum.

But Belle had begged him and he was always powerless to resist the call of a damsel in distress. Particularly when said damsel was his charming best friend.

So he was especially irritated when he arrived at the designated florists and took off his coat only to see a text message from Belle:

**I’m so sorry, I’m not feeling well. Don’t worry, I’ve sent my friend Emma Swan along in my place so you won’t be there alone.x**

His eyes narrowed as he read the message. This had “set up” written all over it. Belle had been hinting about him meeting her friend Emma for weeks now, and this perfectly timed message seemed suspicious. She must have known she was too ill to attend long before now if she’d lined up a replacement, but she’d sent the message at exactly the right point to ensure that he would already be at the florists when it would be bad form to leave.

He looked around the room curiously. In all of Belle’s chattering about Emma, she’d failed to mention what the girl looked like. There were a few promising candidates - including a blonde who was scowling at her phone - he thought he could see her mouthing “son of a bitch” at it.

He kind of hoped that was her. He liked a girl who didn’t take any crap.

The thought had no sooner crossed his mind when his phone buzzed in his hand. Belle had sent him a picture of a blonde goddess. The same blonde goddess he’d just spied swearing at her phone. **This is Emma. Be nice x**  was the caption.

_Well hello, Miss Swan._

He was still irked by the subterfuge, but perhaps an evening with this girl wouldn’t be terrible. He made his way over to her and coughed to get her attention.

“Emma Swan, I presume?”

“Killian Jones?” she asked, one eyebrow arched. Killian could see his own face smiling out from Emma’s phone along with the caption: **This is Killian. Be nice x** “Are you buying this?” Emma asked, holding her phone up for him to see. Sure enough he could see almost the exact same apologetic message that he had received on her phone.

He smirked. “You know, I’m a little disappointed in Belle, she’s such a smart woman, tricking us into a date seems beneath her.”

“Yeah, it’s like she thought we wouldn’t actually talk to each other?”

“Well, you are a very beautiful woman, perhaps she thought I’d be unable to form sentences around you? Or that we’d take one look at each other and fall straight into bed?”

Emma rolled her eyes - although whether it was at his words, Belle’s behaviour, or both, he couldn’t be entirely sure. “Right. Well, you’re clearly still chatty and sorry, but I don’t ... _pillage and plunder_ on a first horribly awkward set up, so she’s wrong on both counts.”

Killian laughed, he knew that he’d been right to hope his date for the night was her. “That’s because you’ve never been on a horribly awkward set up with me before.”

“You say that like this isn’t your first?”

“Belle is my best friend. Although honestly, she’s usually more subtle than this. Perhaps she was worried that I might die a bitter old maid.”

“Sounds like my best friend Mary Margaret. If I have to hear one more hope speech about the power of true love I’m going to hunt down Cupid and use his bow and arrow to kill her.” Killian snorted with laughter. “So, are you any good at this?”

“Blind dates? You’ll have to tell me,” he answered with a laugh.

“Christmas art activities,” Emma clarified, “because I suck at anything artistic and you have to give me a lot of alcohol before I could be considered evenly vaguely ‘festive’”

“Are you asking me to get you drunk? Because if so…” He pulled his flask from his pocket and swung it between his fingers invitingly. “I may be able to help.”

Emma’s eyes lit up. “You know, I think they’re serving eggnog, perhaps we can give it a little extra Christmas spirit?”

He ran his tongue along his teeth and looked her straight in the eye. “You’re a woman after my own heart, Swan.”

It was several hours and many cups of industrial-strength eggnog later and Killian was helping Emma to carry her wreath to her door.

Despite their lack of creative talent and scoffing at the Christmas cheeriness of the occasion (“Seriously, was this a last-ditch attempt to save our love lives or to convert us to the joys of the festive season?” Emma had asked with a laugh at one point.) they’d had a great time.

Admittedly, when they first spied the buckets of festive greenery and Christmas ornaments they had both turned a little pale. But then Emma had whispered, “tackiest wreath competition? Loser buys the drinks.” and Killian’s joy had turned to despair.

“I love a challenge - when are you planning to buy these drinks?”

“Play your cards right and you can buy me drinks on our next horribly awkward set up.”

He had grinned and set to work creating a monstrosity of neon clashing colours, fake snow and glitter. He used the weirdest ornaments he could find and delighted in the shrieks of laughter they drew from Emma. It was even more fun when the poor woman organising the workshop attempted to appear genuinely impressed by their festive creations, offering up a weak “they’re very ... unique,” as she couldn’t hide the slight look of horror in her eyes.

They’d decided to call their competition a draw - and Killian was hoping that meant another two dates with Emma Swan, one where she paid, one where he did. For now though, he would just be happy to have a second.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, pointing out the table where he could place her wreath. He set it down and grinned at her. “Tonight was…”

“A lot of fun,” Emma finished. “When can we do it again?”

“I’ll have to check with the delightful Belle that she hasn’t scheduled me in for any other blind dates. I can only assume that she needs to know I’ll have someone to kiss on New Year’s so that she doesn’t forget that she’s dating Ruby and pounce on me.”

Emma laughed. “Knowing Ruby, she’d be quite happy to watch.”Killian’s eyebrows flew up at the thought, and he awkwardly laughed it off.

There was a moment’s silence between them. Emma brought a hand to his cheek and rubbed at it. “Glitter,” she explained, biting her lip and glancing up above his head. He followed her line of sight and spied “mistletoe?”

“Mary Margaret,” she replied. “I would never force people to kiss because of a festive weed.”

“Still. It’d be a shame to disappoint the mistletoe, don’t you think?” He asked, licking his lips.

“Oh, absolutely,” Emma replied, swaying closer to him. “We can’t make it feel unwanted.” And she kissed him.

It was soft and sweet and everything he had hoped kissing her would be. A part of him was screaming at him to tug her closer and just consume her. But they’d both had a lot to drink and he was a gentleman, he wanted to do this right. Still, it was so hard to let her go...

“Emma, is that you?” a voice called from behind them and they sprang apart. _Probably just as well,_ he thought with a sigh.

“Hey Mary Margaret, this is Killian.” He looked up in time to see Emma’s roommate blush bright red at the sight of him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?” she asked, eyes wide. They both shook their heads.

“No, it’s fine. Killian just helped me bring my wreath inside.” Emma gestured to the wreath and Mary Margaret’s eyes widened in horror. “What do you think Ms? I made it especially for us to hang on our door, I know how much you love Christmas!”

Mary Margaret’s face was frozen, apparently unable to express how much she hated the thought of hanging it on the door. Killian bit his lip so as not to smile.

“Well, it’s certainly … it’s very … um. Wow, Emma, do you think this is too special to hang up outside? We wouldn’t want it to get damaged out there.”

Killian chose that moment to take pity on Mary Margaret. He had no doubt Emma was going to start up the teasing again the moment he left, but still, he could give her chance to regroup.

“Swan? I should go, but I’ll call you,” he said and leaned down to give her a brief kiss.

“You better,” she replied with a grin.

“Nice to meet you Mary Margaret,” Killian called out with a wave and left.

When he came to pick Emma up for their second date, her hideous wreath was hanging on the door and he couldn’t help but tease her for it. Still, she got her own back when they went back to his that night and she saw that he too had hung up his wreath on his door. Perhaps they both were finally getting into the true spirit of Christmas. 


	11. Twas the Night Before Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian wants to give Emma the gift of her first ever real Christmas.

Emma’s eyes opened and she looked around her darkened bedroom curiously. She wasn’t quite sure what had woken her, but her heart was racing as though danger were close by.

She had almost convinced herself that she must have been woken by her dream when she heard a loud thump from her living room.

 _Fucking thieves trying their luck on Christmas Eve!_ Emma fumed internally. The joke was on them: there were no presents sitting under a tree as easy pickings for them. There wasn’t even a tree. They had chosen to break into Scrooge’s house and they were going to be sorely disappointed.

But that didn’t mean she was going to let them off easily.

She reached in her drawer and pulled out her nail scissors then crept cautiously down the hall. She spotted the shadowy figure crouched on the floor at once and moved closer hardly daring to breathe lest the intruder heard her. She grabbed them by the hair and pulled their head back, wrapping her arm around their neck in a chokehold and pressing her scissors against their cheek.

“Bloody hell!” came the startled cry from the intruder who she now realised could be none other than her best friend. “Killian?” she asked, releasing him at once. “What the hell are you doing?” she yelled as she hastily moved to switch on the light.

She blinked a little in the sudden glare then stopped dead, seeing at once exactly what Killian was doing. He was bringing Christmas to her apartment.

There was a tree to one side of the room, covered in ornaments and tinsel and what looked like twinkling lights - although they were all switched off so she couldn’t be sure yet. Beneath the tree there was a sprawling pile of presents.

The other side of the room featured a small fake fireplace made of cardboard complete with mantelpiece, a tissue paper fire and a stocking that had been stuffed full of presents.

On the counter of the kitchenette in the corner there was a basket covered in a clean tea towel that no doubt contained some form of freshly baked good - she thought she caught the scent of cinnamon on the air. Beside it stood a pack of frosted brown sugar cinnamon pop tarts.

On her carpet she thought she could make out dusty footprints, and there were paper chains and snowflakes hanging from her ceiling.

And in the midst of all this Christmas sat Killian, looking sheepish.

“What - what is all this?” Tears had come to her eyes as she looked about in wonder. She’d always hated Christmas, but that had always been because she had no one to share it with, no one to care.

Killian scratched behind his ear. “You’re always saying that we should call you Scrooge, but I figure that … that you never got a proper Christmas?” Of course he’d worked it out. She never did have to give him the full story, he could read her like a book anyway.

“I mean… before my mum passed away Christmas was always magical. I remember how awful the few years I spent in the system were at Christmastime. I expected it to be special like mum had made it, but no one cares all that much about their foster kids. I just thought it was time that you saw what a real Christmas was like.”

She didn’t know when he had got up and moved towards her, but he was right in front of her. “Is that ok, Swan? I’m sorry if I overstepped…”

She cut him off with a kiss. How could he think this was anything less than perfect? Here was this man looking out for her, giving her everything her younger self had never dared to wish for, and he was apologising?

“Thank you, Killian,” she said with a sniff. “This is perfect. Now how about you come to bed? Surely even Santa’s elves deserve a little sleep.” Killian looked awestruck and nodded as she took his hand and led him to her room.

He stripped down to his boxers and slid under the sheets. She gave him a kiss and then pulled his arm around her and settled back down for the night.

It wasn’t the time for speeches - and she had all the declarations of love she needed waiting out in her apartment. Now was the time for visions of sugar plums dancing in her head as she went to sleep excited for Christmas morning to come - and with someone special to share it with - for the first time ever.


	12. The Very Secret Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian gets Emma for their friends Secret Santa. There's only one problem: he's never actually met Emma.

From: [yourgiftee@theverysecretsanta.com](mailto:yourgiftee@theverysecretsanta.com)

Subject: Your Giftee

Hello Killian!

Your giftee is Emma Swan, here's their wish list:

  1. None entered
  2. None entered
  3. None entered



Any allergies or intolerances: None entered

Your agreed budget is $25 and your agreed gift exchange date is December 24. Good luck!

Ho ho ho,

The Very Secret Santa

Killian stared at his email. He admired Mary Margaret's dedication to absolute anonymity (he suspected it was largely because she was unable keep a secret so being unaware of who had who was safest for her) but there was one fatal flaw with using an app over pulling a name out of a hat: He had never actually met Emma Swan.

He knew who she was of course. David's little sister, Mary Margaret's best friend, Graham's ex.. At times he felt like he knew absolutely everyone she had ever met, except for the elusive Miss Swan herself.

And she wasn't exactly forthcoming with gift ideas. Excellent. He would just have to try to find a way to meet her - or subtly run reconnaissance on her.

(Although the thought of probing Dave about his sister was worrying. At times Killian wondered if his friend realised that she was his sister and not his daughter, such was his overprotective streak where Emma was concerned.)

He tried. Honestly he did. He discreetly asked questions that received frustratingly vague answers. He stalked his friends’ social media pages but Emma Swan was barely seen. He attempted to engineer trips out with the whole gang, but apparently the festive season was an exceptionally busy time for the discerning bail bondsperson, so she was never available.

He was starting to wonder if Emma Swan was in fact an elaborate hoax. Some kind of strange initiation into the group for the British guy who'd only moved to town a few months ago.

And that’s how he ended up desperately searching for something, _anything_ , to get her on Christmas Eve.

He was frowning at a neon fair isle beanie with a pair of frankly alarming large pom poms on top and wondering what had become of his life when he was interrupted by a voice.

“I don’t think it’s your colour.”

He looked up and saw an angel. He blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Wait, not an angel, although a stunning beauty. “What?” he asked dumbly.

She nodded towards the garish festive hat. “I’m not sure that hat is quite right for you.”

“Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head and putting it down. “I’m not sure that hat is quite right for anyone, but I’m getting The Fear.”

“The Fear?” She cocked her head, looking puzzled and waiting for an explanation.

“When you know you’re on the verge of turning up to a festive gift exchange empty-handed and suddenly anything seems acceptable. Eggnog-scented bath bombs coated in obscene amounts of glitter? Why not! Christmas dinner flavoured vodka in a novelty bottle? Sounds delicious! Hideous, but marginally festive wooly hat? It’s clearly what they always wanted!” He sighed deeply. “Maybe a gift card is a better option.”

“Who are you buying for?”

“An enigma.” The angel frowned at his words in confusion. “I don’t actually know the lass. She’s a friend of my friends and I picked her for Secret Santa. I’ve been trying so hard to find out something, _anything,_ she might like, but I’m half convinced she doesn’t really exist, I’ve found so little out about her.”

“Trust me, novelty festive items are not the answer.”

He looked at the array of festive gifts marked half off a little sadly. “No. I just wish I knew what was.”

“Any reason to think she’s allergic to chocolate?”

“She either isn’t or she’s willing to risk the anaphylactic shot for a fix.”

The girl - he was starting to think of her as his guardian angel - nodded. “A girl after my own heart. Right. Decent hot chocolate is the answer, throw in some marshmallows, a nice mug if your budget will stretch to that. Oh and some cinnamon sticks.”

“Cinnamon sticks?”

“Makes it festive and cinnamon makes hot chocolate 1000% better.”

“Noted.” He looked at her for a long moment. “Well, thank you -” he trailed off, reaching for her name. Her phone rang. She pulled her phone from her pocket.

“Fuck. Sorry, I’ve got to take this. Good luck with your enigma!” And in a flash of blonde curls, she was gone, whispering urgently into her phone.

He gazed after her, then with a sigh, started searching about for the makings of the perfect Secret Santa gift.

He arrived at the Nolan’s apartment later that night, slightly late, but Mary Margaret assured him that he was right on time for the gift exchange. He bustled into the living room, sheepishly apologising for his late arrival, when he spotted his guardian angel settled on the couch next to David.

“Killian!” David called out, failing to notice the look of shock on his face. “Have you met my sister Emma before?”

Emma’s eyes had similarly gone wide with recognition, although her look of confusion quickly turned to a smirk. “Yeah, we’ve met,” she said with a nod, “did you find the perfect gift for your enigma?”

“Something tells me I did,” he replied with a chuckle. “My guardian angel came to rescue me from poor gift purchasing decisions.”

David frowned at the pair of them. “Care to let us in on this secret?”

Emma just shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, Dave,” she replied, patting his knee somewhat patronisingly.

“Present time!” Mary Margaret interrupted them and they got stuck into the gift exchange. When Emma opened her gift she made a show of mock surprise over the contents that had Killian laughing and everyone else looking somewhat confused.

It was much later on, and Killian had been chatting to Ruby in the kitchen when Dorothy came to claim her girlfriend. He leaned back against the counter, taking a moment to enjoy his rum in silence before he rejoined the party.

“There you are!” He looked up to see Emma poking her head around the door and grinning at him.

“Here I am,” he agreed. She came and stood next to him, taking his rum from his hand and stealing a sip with an appreciative nod. He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Just because you’re my saviour, doesn’t mean you can steal my rum.”

“Your saviour?” She laughed. “That beanie would have looked horrible on me, so really, I was saving myself.”

“So I pulled off the perfect Secret Santa gift?”

“You did, thanks.” She smiled at him and Killian felt like a schoolkid with a crush. God, this girl was turning him into such a mess. He needed to reclaim some sense of self - so he turned on the charm.

He tapped at his lips and asked cheekily, “perhaps a little gratitude is in order?”

She pursed her lips in thought. “Shouldn’t you be thanking me? We both know you couldn’t have done it alone.” She winked, a twinkle in her eye and Killian took it as an invitation to step forward and kiss her.

It started soft, but she grabbed him and yanked him closer, deepening the kiss as she went. He followed her lead, tangling his hand into her hair and kissing with all his might. For several perfect minutes they were lost in each other.

She pulled back, but seemed reluctant to do so, still gripping him tightly by the shirt and lingering near him.

“That was -” he began.

“Pretty good,” she said with a grin. “You kiss better than you buy gifts.”

He laughed. “I’m glad you approve - although, I’m pretty good at buying presents for people I’ve actually met.”

“Maybe sometime you’ll get to prove that to me?”

“I hope so.”

And prove it to her he did, by buying her the perfect understated Valentine for a only-just dating couple, the best birthday present a doting boyfriend could provide and the ideal Christmas/anniversary gift one year later.


	13. Operation Secret Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another take on Killian gets Emma for their Secret Santa, the only trouble is, he's never met her before.

Emma Swan.

Killian read the words and groaned. He had obviously made the naughty list this year. He had definitely, quite specifically told Santa that for Christmas he wanted anything but being Emma Swan’s Secret Santa.

He knew he should've put in a written request instead of just sending his wishes out into the universe. A letter to the North Pole probably would've been more effective. (Although who was to say he wouldn't still have ended up with the Secret Santa equivalent of coal in his stocking?)

He had nothing against her - but, as of yet, he hadn't met her, which made buying any kind of decent gift for her somewhat problematic.

And her “wish list” consisted of just one word: chocolate? If worse came to worst he guessed he could always just buy 25 bucks worth of Christmas chocolate and hope for the best, but she didn’t seem all that certain that she even wanted it, so it felt like a risky move.

There was only one thing for it: Killian was just going to have to befriend the elusive Emma Swan.

 **Drinks Friday @ Aesop’s Tables?** He messaged their group chat. He could do this. He could get to know Emma. He could discover what her heart desired and give it to her (as long as it cost $25 or less).

Operation Secret Santa was on.

 

Emma wasn’t coming. Of course. This was the reason for his predicament in the first place: when your job involves working nights it’s hard to socialise with people who work in the day. Still though, he could enjoy a fun night with his friends and make alternative arrangements to meet Miss Swan.

Somehow.

He was settled in a booth with David, Mary Margaret, Robin, Regina and Belle when he was temporarily distracted by a blonde bombshell in a figure hugging dress.

“Play your card, Killian!” Robin said, nudging him hard in the side. They were playing Cards Against Humanity and he had been debating whether “Jesus is -” “gift wrapping a live hamster” or “taking down Santa with a surface-to-air missile”. He turned his attention back to the game and picked his card.

“What are you guys playing?”

He looked up at the unfamiliar voice. The bombshell was standing next to them, leaning forward to take a look at their game. He licked his lips involuntarily at the sight of her, oh yes, things were about to get interesting.

“Emma!” David cried, already cruising past tipsy and well into full on drunk territory and it had only just turned 8. He tried to stand up, but was thwarted by the table and instead pulled her down into the booth beside him, kissing her on the cheek.

Killian frowned at the display, was this beauty Emma Swan? If not, he couldn’t quite understand either David’s actions or Mary Margaret’s lack of reaction.

“Killian!” Dave interrupted his train of thought. “Have you met Emma?”

“Swan?” he asked, uncertain if he wanted the answer to be yes or no. On the one hand, he would enjoy nothing more than to get to know this enchantress. On the other, she was his best mate’s sister and he was fairly certain he’d get a punching for so much as looking at her funny.

“Guilty as charged. And you must be Killian Jones, my brother’s new boyfriend.”

David nodded but then processing what she said, shook his head. “What Killian and I have is a bromance for the ages, but nothing more. My dearest Mary Margaret is the only one for me.”

“More’s the pity,” Killian said sincerely. Emma laughed and he caught her eye, enjoying the twinkle of mischief he saw there. Oh man, was he in trouble.

 

Killian was definitely in trouble. He hadn’t realised that tonight Aesop’s Tables was branching out with “Christmasoke”. He waited at the bar, cringing as David warbled his way through “All I Want for Christmas is You” to a ridiculously happy Mary Margaret.

The trouble wasn’t that he couldn’t sing - Dave had a disturbingly attractive singing voice that had almost Killian questioning his sexuality - more that he was too drunk to remember the words or read them on the screen. He also seemed to be attempting some kind of ill-advised dance routine to add a little pizzazz to his performance and Killian was slightly concerned that he was going to break a bone.

“This is your fault.” Emma was nodding towards David with a look of disgust on her face.

“How do you figure?”

“You suggested this place.”

“I didn’t know this was going to happen and believe me, I didn’t force your brother to perform.” He watched in mild horror as David hit the final high note with alarming clarity and nearly fell off the karaoke platform attempting to bow.

“Still. I think you owe me.” He turned his full attention to Emma with a wide grin, intrigued by the suggestion.

“Oh yeah?” He leaned in a little closer. “And what exactly is it that I owe you?”

“Alcohol. Lots of it.”

“Your wish is my command,” he said with a grin, motioning to the bartender for another drink.

“Every time someone massacres Mariah tonight, I expect another drink.”

“Are you sure that your liver can take that much alcohol? I don’t want to poison you.”

“I will welcome death with open arms.”

He laughed at the melodramatic statement. “You seem to feel very strongly about festive tunes.”

“Festive songs are barely tolerable as it is. Can’t have people with their poor cover versions and shitty karaoke renditions destroying the classics.”

“Very true, love. OK, we have a deal. Every time a classic dies, you get a drink.”

“Good man.”

 

Killian had his arms wrapped around Emma’s waist and was holding her steady as she attempted to open her front door. He wished that this was in the context of having been invited for a nightcap, but it was simply a consequence of 5 renditions of All I Want for Christmas is You, 3 of Jingle Bell Rock and a particularly terrible performance of White Christmas.

Emma Swan was messy drunk and having supplied most of her drinks he felt the need to ensure that she got home safely. He was fairly certain that David would kill him if he didn’t.

When it became apparent that she wasn’t able to unlock her door without help, he wrapped his hand around hers, guiding the key towards the lock. Between them they stumbled into her apartment. He tried to release her once she was through the door, but when she nearly fell over he picked her up in a bridal lift.

She giggled and he felt weak-kneed. He was definitely going to blame the rum for that, although the truth was that Emma giggling just did things to him.

She pointed him in the direction of her room and he carried her there. He carefully placed her down and deliberately ignored the way her dress had ridden up her thighs. He moved to go get her a drink, when she grabbed hold of his lapels and pulled him in for a kiss.

It was messy. A little too much teeth and not enough finesse but she was pulling him in as though desperate for him. And he wanted that so much. But… This wasn’t right.

He pulled back from her and she let go of him and dropped back against her bed. “That was…” he panted and broke off, unsure of how to continue. Unexpected? Definitely. Hot? Yes. A terrible move? Oh, absolutely.

“Thanks, Killian,” Emma mumbled and closed her eyes. He left her room in search of water intending to make her drink some before she fell asleep. However by the time he returned she was passed out and so he set down the glass on her bedside table, covered her with her blanket and left her to sleep.

 

Killian stood at Emma's door, hot drinks tray in hand, internally debating whether this was the right move to make.

On the one hand, after last night's alcohol intake she was sure to need some form of refreshment. On the other, she might not appreciate the appearance of the guy who got her drunk, carried her to bed, kissed her then left, on her doorstep. Even if he did come bearing gifts.

He decided not to second guess it. He would offer her a beverage and be on his way. If she invited him in, excellent, but he was hardly expecting her to roll out the red carpet for him.

He knocked and waited. She eventually opened the door looking bleary-eyed and clutching at her head. “Killian?” She looked deeply confused by his presence, or perhaps she was just fighting a hangover to keep her eyes open.

“I come bearing hot beverages to chase the hangover away. Tell me, love, what's your poison?”

She blinked. “That is too much words for this much hangover.”

Killian chuckled. “I have a choice of: hot chocolate, tea, black coffee - there's cream and sugar if you want, and some disgustingly sugary festive concoction claiming to contain caffeine and calories.”

“For me?” was all Emma said, he nodded. “Why?”

“I feel a bit responsible for how drunk you were.”

“You should.”

“Don't worry, I'm going to go home and torture myself with festive tunes on repeat.”

“The really bad ones?”

“Definitely. Especially dodgy cover versions of once great Christmas songs.”

Emma nodded approvingly. “Good. I'll take the hot chocolate.” He passed it over and watched as she took a sip then her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Cinnamon?”

“Is that OK?” He scratched behind his ear. “Sorry, I picked that up from your charming brother and sister in law.”

“It's good. It, er, runs in the family.” There was a long pause. “Thanks for the, how'd you say it? ‘hot beverage’,” she mimicked his accent and used air quotes, but damn if it wasn't adorable. “But, I need to go die in bed, so bye. Might see you later if I come back from the dead.”

 

**Are you dead yet?**

_Why do you have my number?_

**I needed to be certain that I could obtain proof of life for Dave. I couldn't have him thinking that I behaved in an untowards manner when I escorted you home.**

_Stop texting like Mr Darcy. It just killed me again._

**Because you were overcome by how attractive I am even via text?**

_I'm going to haunt you from beyond the grave. I'm not going to leave you alone for a second._

**I would despair if you did.**

 

**Your ghost is very lazy, I haven’t noticed one book fly across the room unexpectedly, heard any unusual noises or even misplaced my keys once in the past few days.**

_Sorry, Killian, I did come back from the dead._

**Shouldn’t you be trying to eat me then?**

_Emma sent a selfie with brows furrowed, lips pursed and head tilted to one side. Caption: Seriously?_

**I meant my brains. Like a zombie.**

_OK._

**Although I would never deny a lady who was wanting to act out her deepest desires.**

_Shut up, Jones._

**As you wish.**

 

_Stakeouts are the worst._

_I’m bored._

_Come on, Mr Darcy, distract me from the cold._

**Are you asking me to come warm you up, love?**

_You wish._

**I only meant I could bring you hot chocolate and grilled cheese. Although I could be persuaded to try other techniques to keep you warm. I hear that skin to skin contact is excellent for transferring body heat. ;)**

_I shouldn’t have texted you._

 

Killian wasn’t entirely certain that he was actually learning anything about Emma that would help him with Operation Secret Santa. So far his present ideas consisted of hot chocolate and hand warmers. While he was sure she’d appreciate both, they didn’t feel like the thoughtful gift that would come of such extensive reconnaissance.

And yet he found that he had no interest in cutting off contact.

He loved needling her - enjoying the way she cut him dead in his teasing. And texting her was becoming his favourite part of the day. He strongly suspected that he needed to get out more. And that was why he found himself agreeing to a set up.

The Frost sisters were new to town and Mary Margaret seemed to have made it her mission to help the elder one find love. As he secretly suspected that Mary Margaret wanted to give him a love life for Christmas too, he thought she must have been delighted by the plan.

It was not going well.

Elsa was perfectly lovely - although she had the misfortune of having another blonde beauty to live up to. Nice as she was, her cool, calm demeanour stood in stark relief to Emma’s more firey nature and suffered by comparison.

Luckily they worked out quite quickly that neither one was interested in anything more than friendship. It meant they could relax and settle into an evening of eating and laughing at the over the top festive decorations of the restaurant (at least one customer got tangled in low hanging snowflakes much to their amusement and hanging mistletoe over the tables seemed more than a little desperate.)

In fact, the only dark spot on the evening was when he looked at his phone while Elsa was in the bathroom to see several messages from Emma.

_Got the guy early so I’ve got the evening free, want to do something?_

_I have a strange urge to mock Christmas movies. There will be popcorn and rum. If you’re not busy._

_I’ve never known you to be this quiet. You better not be silently judging me for the festive film viewing._

He was just about to reply when Elsa slid back into her seat. He sighed a little and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“Who is she?” Elsa asked with a knowing grin.

“Sorry?”

“Whoever’s texting you - you were gazing at your phone like a lovesick puppy and looked so sad to have to put it away just now.”

He scoffed and shook his head in a way that was intended to convey _oh, that meant nothing._ But then his phone buzzed in his pocket and he twitched to see if Emma had more to say. Elsa laughed at him. “What’s say that we get the bill so you can get back to your phone?” He blushed a little but nevertheless nodded in agreement.

 

**Forgive me Lady Swan, I was unavoidably detained, is that offer still open?**

_No._

_Unless you get me pop tarts._

 

He knocked on her door, pop tarts in hand a little over 30 minutes later. “Your pop tarts, milady,” he said, presenting them with a flourish. She rolled her eyes, but took them from him and stepped aside to let him in.

He had an unfortunate flash of memory of the last time he was in this apartment - of enthusiastic if sloppy kisses - that he forced himself to push aside. He wasn’t entirely sure if she remembered them, and if she did, she seemed to have no interest in repeating the experience.

He sauntered to the couch and slumped down into it. “What are we watching?”

“A Christmas Prince - it’s absolutely terrible,” Emma answered, her eyes lighting up gleefully. She settled down next to him, snuggling into his side. _Interesting._ “So, where were you earlier?” she asked, her voice sounding just a little too casual.

“I was on a date.” She stiffened and shifted, subtly moving herself away from him. He smiled to himself at her response, and put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her back towards him. “Mary Margaret seems to be trying to act out a Hallmark Christmas movie and find the lonely Brit a date for Christmas. She might’ve had more luck if she had checked that the chosen lady wanted to date a man.”

“She set you up with a lesbian?” Emma pushed away from him to gape at him in horror.

He chuckled. “Not quite that bad - she’s bi, but said she’s more interested in dating a woman at present. She didn’t really like to get into the particulars with someone she had only just met, which is why she agreed.”

“Oh your poor ego,” Emma teased.

“My ego can take it. I may be devilishly handsome, but the heart wants what it wants and I’m clearly too manly for her.” Emma snorted with laughter. “Besides, I only went to shut Mary Margaret up.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” was Emma’s cheeky reply, but she happily cuddled back into him before switching the film back on.

 

The more time he spent with Emma the more he realised that her list wasn't designed as some kind of “fuck you” to the entire Secret Santa concept - she just genuinely wasn't into _stuff_. She had her few creature comforts: snuggly blankets, a coffee maker, an impressive stash of tooth-rotting treats, but she seemed to prefer a simple life.

It was endearing, but again, challenging. His list of potential things Emma might like for Christmas was up to hot chocolate, hand warmers, rum, pop tarts and possibly Harry Potter merchandise.

Christmas Eve was getting ever closer and while he had succeeded in getting to know Emma Swan, the perfect gift for her became ever more elusive. The better he knew her, the more he wanted to get something incredible.

In the end he bought a stocking and filled it with little everyday luxuries for her. It still felt like not quite enough, but $25 only took you so far. Still, she seemed to appreciate it all when she opened it for the gift exchange, so he was classing Operation Secret Santa a success.

So why didn’t he feel more satisfied?

 

“Hey, Santa.” He was hiding in the kitchen to escape from the increasingly torturous festive games Mary Margaret was making them play when Emma found him.

He looked up, quirking a brow at her, puzzled by Emma’s greeting. “Hmm?”

“You telling me that you’re not Santa?”

“Are you calling me a jolly old fat man? Is that a hint to lay off the desserts? Because honestly, that’s a little rude, love. You don’t want to wound my ego, do you?”

She laughed at him. “Don’t worry, you still look dashing. But are you really telling me that you’re not my Santa?”

His mouth dropped open in surprise but he smiled at her all the same. “You’re bloody brilliant, you know that, Swan?”

She smiled, looking a little smug and dropped into a curtsey.

“So did I do OK with my Santa duties?”

“Hmmm.” Emma looked thoughtful. “Can I be honest?”

Killian’s eyebrows shot up in wonder - what on earth could she have to say? “Aye?” he replied warily.

“There’s something that I want. I’ve been dropping hints, and I kind of thought that Santa might have picked up on it?” She smiled up at him through her eyelashes. Did she mean what he thought she meant? Ever since his date with Elsa, he’d hoped, but that was just wishful thinking, right?

Killian’s heart beat a little faster. “And what might that be?”

She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips gently to his. “At the risk of being cheesy, all I want for Christmas is you.”

“Well, love, luckily for you, I feel exactly the same.” And when he kissed her it felt like all his Christmas wishes had come true.


End file.
